#HOLY MOTHER OF THE COPY OF SPACE CAT

[wortverlust]

At this point I may be more in love w your version of Levi than canon /hj

I have no idea how to response bc my brain is stuck in this freakin' loop:

NONIE?! WHAAAT?!

[leiascully]

5 Conversations Between Maggie and Mulder

By @agirlcalledNarelle - I think Maggie and Mulder had a complicated relationship. Here’s my take on a few shared moments between them….

4,7k words. Here on AO3. 

1. 1995

The Glasgow room, otherwise known as events room B, is empty and cavernous when he arrives. Sound bounces off the walls from the other early guests and is presented back to them in an awkward offering.  Helium balloons dance timidly from their weights along the outskirt of the room. Mulder slinks in like a cat and nurses a beer as he watches the room fill. He did not go to the graveyard.

Thankfully the event grows into the space, and the hum of conversation encourages more of the same. There is laughter. Recent friends wear brightly coloured outfits, paisley shirts and ethereal skirts. The family wear black, but wicked humour sparkles through their sad smiles. Scully and Maggie arrive, accompanied by a smattering of aunts, uncles, cousins. It’s strange to see Scully with a support network which excludes him. He doesn’t feel like he can approach her; he will wait for her. They make eye contact briefly, and she moves towards him before being intercepted by someone. Maggie smiles as she speaks, but he sees her glance frequently around the room for her remaining daughter as if proving to herself that she is still here, that she hasn’t lost Dana too. 

There is never enough food at events like this. Out of some misguided sense of chivalry which no one witnesses, he is late to the buffet and picks at the remaining trays. Having made small talk with some cousins from Wisconsin, he sits furtively at a table for two, hoping his vibes deter anyone from making any further effort.

‘Fox.’ He looks up, mid-room temperature shrimp half-way to his mouth, to see Maggie standing at his elbow with Scully behind her. Mulder can see foundation gathering in the creases around her eyes. Her cheeks have has sunk, no longer blooming from happy memories. Mulder stands and wipes his mouth on a napkin.

‘Mrs Scully,’ he kisses Maggie on the cheek. ‘I’m so very sorry about Melissa.’

‘Thank you.’ Her eyes are shiny pebbles from the bottom of a stream, clear and hard. Mulder gulps, his mouth dry, and wipes his hands on his napkin, frustrated he has nothing of value to offer when she suddenly speaks, low and forcefully. ‘Tell me, Fox. Was it worth it? Was what you found worth it?’

‘Come on, Mom, let’s go say hi to the Denman’s. I see them over there.’ Scully puts her hand on her mother’s arm and pushes her gently away. He watches them, relieved to avoid further interrogation, and considers making a quiet exit when Scully turns and mouths ‘don’t go.’ Damn. Suddenly no longer hungry, he pushes his plate to the opposite place setting and waits. He watches.

Scully and Maggie work the room, sometimes together, sometimes apart. They are the only members of the immediate Scully family representing Melissa to her mourners. The extended family, comprising of short women and tall men, make sure that Scully’s wine glass never fully empties. Maggie favours brandy. She remembers the names of Melissa’s childhood friends and greets her adult friends with generous hugs. Laughter abounds as family reacquaints and friends rediscover commonalities.  Each table hosts a framed photo of Melissa, and on this table, there is a photo of the Scully children in front of a big fish that Bill Junior has caught. Melissa is tall, beautiful with early-teen self-consciousness, smiling without teeth. Dana is at least 6 inches smaller, her face chubby and framed with bangs, and excitedly pointing at the fish with her two index fingers, her mouth open in a perfect ‘o’.

The sun takes polite grief with it as it sets, and the mood of the room shifts towards a more frantic, unrestrained celebration. Ties are loosened, music starts to play, and voices grow louder as the guests realise their hours for remembering Melissa together will soon draw to a close. Scully sits opposite him, pushing aside the remaining plate of food. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks pink. A tissue peeks out of her cardigan sleeve, and her mascara is slightly smudged under her left eye. She smiles languidly and rests her chin in her hand. They hear Maggie laugh across the room with the cousins from Wisconsin. They are both taller than her, and one wraps her into a bear hug. She has the effusiveness of a dinner party host, eager to inform everyone where the food is and to help themselves to drinks. In the gap between conversation, Mulder sees Maggie staring into the middle distance, steeling herself to share the next anecdote.

‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Mulder remarks.

‘This is the fun part,’ Scully says, her s’s slightly stretched. ‘Remembering Missy with all her favourite people. And some of her not-so-favourite people.’ They watch Maggie take another brandy from the waitress. ‘She’ll crash later once we’re in the cab. I’m staying with her tonight.’

‘Can I take you both home?’ Mulder asks, suddenly wanting to do at least this for Scully and her mother.

‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Mulder.’

‘Please, I’d like to.

Scully appraises him, draining her wine. ‘She’s not herself today, you know. Don’t give it another thought.’

No apology, Mulder notes.

‘I know. She was right to ask. She has the right to ask, I mean. She should ask.’

‘She does. She should.’ Scully gazes lovingly at her mom, eyes misting with tears before someone else catches her eye, causing her to giggle into her hand like a schoolgirl. ‘Oh no. Missy would be devastated to know that Sam Charleston is here. She had the biggest crush on him when she started her first job, and he kept her well and truly in the friend zone.’

‘Go say hi. Go mingle.’

She leans on her knuckles to steady herself as she stands. ‘If that offer is still open…. That would be nice. We would love a lift back.’

‘Of course.’

‘Oh, and Mulder,’ she says as she starts to totter away. ‘We’re Irish. This is going to be a late one.’

‘I’ll be here.’

2. 1997

Mulder wakes to the shadow of someone standing over him. Blinking, his back burns as he sits up in his plastic chair.

‘Go home, Fox,’ Maggie says. ‘You should get some rest. In a proper bed.’

Her eyes are bright, too wide, like a child who has eaten all their Halloween candy in one sitting, twitchy and hyper. The hall is quiet, the bustle of the day replaced with a cloak of calm inevitability as some patients gather their strength for another day, and some succumb to the everlasting sleep which floats through these rooms like a genie, offering to grant the most desperate wishes.

‘Uh, I can’t seem to leave.’ He rubs his neck. ‘Is Scully ok?’

‘She’s just fallen asleep.’ Maggie sits beside him. She rubs her hands over her face and reaches for his hand. It’s an intimate move, but a hospital at 3am is an intimate, almost holy place and those who witness it are bound by their understanding of this. He covers her hand with his, a silent gesture of solidarity.

Maggie, Bill and Mulder haven’t slept properly in days; Scully sleeps too much for all of them. She can’t smell, can’t taste, doesn’t eat. Her headaches are sudden and vicious, the only respite being ever-stronger painkillers and sleep. Suddenly her teeth start to grind. She loses track of conversation, eyes, fingers and face all clenched, and Mulder presses her painkiller button in frustration that this is all he can do. All the road signs are pointing towards morphine. No one mentions it explicitly, knowing it will likely be the last landmark for Scully.

‘Where’s Bill?’

‘He’s gone back. To pick up some clothes, pick up my copy of Little Women for Dana.’ Maggie rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes. ‘When she’s awake I’m worried that she’s not getting enough rest, and when she’s asleep I just want to wake her. It’s like she’s 2 weeks old all over again.’

Mulder stays quiet.

‘She’s stopped arguing with me, have you noticed? She doesn’t have the energy. I just want to see her eyes flash at me again, I want that ‘here we go again’ feeling one more time. I’m trying to remember the last time we did that. I’m trying to remember.’

‘Mrs Scully, you can’t give up hope, not yet.’ Mulder teeters of the edge of acceptance but hasn’t fallen into that hole just yet: its depth is too deep, too dark, and he’s not sure he would recognise the man who comes out the other side. He needs his anger to stay on track for Scully, to keep going, and more importantly in this moment now, to stay awake.

‘Fox, I haven’t given up hope, far from it,’ Maggie’s voice is tired and resigned. ‘But you can’t deny what we’re seeing. We can’t expect things from Dana that she can’t give us. Then it’s not fair on her.’

Mulder feels this new perspective like a splash of cold water on his face. He hadn’t considered the impact of his unending fight on Scully. Did she feel like she had to perform for him? Did she gather her strength every time he entered the room to protect him from what was happening, to allow him his little charade? Does the energy needed for his visits mean more frequent headaches, more pain? His shoulders slump further as more guilt settles across them.

Maggie’s head suddenly brushes his shoulder, and she looks up in surprise, blinking. A microsleep.

‘Mrs Scully, you should take your own advice.’ He squeezes her hand where it still rests in his. ‘Get some proper rest.’

Maggie shakes her head. ‘There’s the meeting with Dana’s doctor first thing. And then the Priest is stopping by.’

The meeting is to learn the consultant recommendation after examining the chip that Mulder had offered him like frankincense. They had scanned it, taken photos, made notes, but the chip itself remained in Mulder’s pocket at his insistence.

‘I hope you know I respect the work of the priest.’ Mulder clears his throat, not sure of his next words. ‘I’m not exactly what you’d call a good disciple, but I’m willing to try anything at this point. And I know what it means to Dana.’

‘I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of this chip, Fox. But you’ve earned the right to an opinion here. And anyway, Dana will do what she thinks is best: she won’t have anyone else make this choice for her.’

‘I know. I just wanted you to know that … I just want to make sure we’ve tried everything.’

Maggie stands and puts a hand to his cheek, her hand soft against his stubble. It’s a move he’s done to Scully before, but he had underestimated how much comfort it brings. He wants to nuzzle into her hand, to close his eyes and rest in the warmth.

‘I know you love her, Fox. You love her as she deserves to be loved. I do wish you might show it with roses instead of computer chips,’ she smiles ruefully. ‘But there aren’t words to convey how grateful I’ve been to see your love for my daughter over these past few weeks.’

He watches her go back into Scully’s dark room. They both wait, in different rooms, for the sun to rise on the day when Scully’s holy trinity of faith, family and work will entwine around her like the roots of a tree in a final attempt to nourish her back to health.

3. 1998

It is still dark when they pull up outside the house, but someone has clocked their arrival and the front door flings open. Maggie waves, wrapping her cardigan around her, and gestures inwards.

‘You have to come in now, you realise,’ Scully says as she unbuckles her belt.

‘Oh, no, Scully, I don’t want to do that. You be with your family. It’s 6:30am.’

‘Come on, you’ll offend her. You don’t want to offend my mother on Christmas morning, do you Mulder?’ Scully teases. ‘Or do you? Is that what you want?’

He sighs and walks with her towards the house. Modest fairy lights twinkle on the porch, and the Christmas tree glows from the front window. Mulder can see tasteful, coordinated ornaments and the outline of people in the front room. Already the Scully Christmas is in stark contrast to Christmas at his mother’s house: a quiet affair with two lonely presents under a tree that never seems to stand straight, decorated with all Fox and Samantha’s homemade decorations from over the years. A roast chicken that would invariably burn as Teena became engrossed in a Christmas movie and Mulder slept on the couch. They would end the day with a quiet game of Scrabble. He feels a protective pang in his chest: it’s not much of a Christmas, but it’s their Christmas. Teena is never outwardly demonstrative, but he knows he is loved. She has saved all his crafts, every homemade Mother’s Day and Christmas card. I’ll call her later, he promises to himself as he walks to the porch, swallowing the bitter taste of treachery as he crosses another mother’s threshold on Christmas morning.

‘Come in, come in! Merry Christmas!’ Maggie exclaims as they stamp the snow from their shoes. They are her first gifts of the day as she unwraps their coats and scarves. ‘Fox, what an unexpected surprise.’

‘Uh, Scully’s car didn’t start, so I gave her a lift,’ he said lamely, hoping the explanation doesn’t lead to more questions.

‘Well, you can at least stay for breakfast.’ She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He is uncomfortable, unused to meeting Maggie outside of a crisis. He doesn’t have anything to offer her, not even a Christmas card, and he almost regrets offering Scully a lift this morning. He had been high on infatuation, waking after their late-night ghost hunt to find Scully snuffling under the covers next to him like a grumpy guinea pig, her scruffy red hair poking out from under the covers.

‘Thank you, Mrs Scully, that would be great. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.’

‘Please, Fox, it’s a last-minute invite. It’s enough that you’re here.’ Mulder smiles, and sends a thought remembering his mother at the Vineyard on her own. It might be called a prayer, if he was a man of any sort of religious faith.

‘Sorry we’re late, Mom.’

‘Don’t be silly, Dana, I don’t know why we have to meet at such an ungodly time anyway.’ She ushers them into the living room. Bill sits in front of the tree wearing a Santa hat, his son perched in his lap lifting and shaking any gift in his proximity. Scully hugs her sister-in-law affectionately, and Mulder notes that something has thawed between them since San Diego.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Bill asks in surprise, quickly removing his Santa hat.

‘Hush now, Bill,’ Maggie says easily, entering with a tray of mugs and a cafetière full of coffee. ‘It’s too early to be so contrary.’

‘I just think it’s odd that her work colleague is in our living room at 6:30am.‘

‘Bill, please. Fox is Dana’s partner, and they get to decide the context of that. Not us.’

Mulder glances at Scully. He’s not sure what Maggie has just insinuated, or what Scully has been saying to make Maggie to make her think that way. They’re still walking this path cautiously, and yet Mulder feels like Maggie has just confirmed something fundamental that neither had fully acknowledged yet.  Scully reflects his surprise, raising an eyebrow before looking back at her brother.

‘Admit it, Bill,’ Scully says, ‘you’re just embarrassed that Mulder’s seen you in your jimmy jams.’

There is a pause in the room before Bill spreads his hands and laughs.

‘Guilty. Grab a seat, Mulder, let’s see if there’s a lump of coal under here somewhere for you.’ Scully squeezes his arm in solidarity. Mulder sees the steel under Bill’s smile and nods, accepting the tentative olive branch.

‘Excellent.’ Maggie sits beside the tree and pulls Matthew onto her lap, who desperately reaches towards the tree. ‘My grandson has been patient enough. Now that we’re all here, and caffeinated, how about we open some presents?’

4. 2001

Mulder stares through the nursery glass at the eight babies wriggling in their little beds. It’s like a very small and very strange zoo exhibition. I’m sorry guys, he thinks, visiting hours have just started for you. His baby is back row left, wearing a blue hat and sleeping with his mouth slightly open, oblivious to all the motion and emotion surrounding him.

Scully needed stitches. The doctors were not happy with her delivery in general, and Mulder felt them glance suspiciously in his direction when he wasn’t looking. They had also given Scully a sedative: she had been shaking with shock and exhaustion, having had no sleep during the 16 hours since the delivery. In the helicopter she had gripped her son with a haunted look in her eyes, only reluctantly handing him to the nurse when the desire to have him checked over outweighed her instinct to hold tight. Go with him, she’d begged, the force of his hand squashing his fingers, don’t leave him alone. Make sure he’s ok. Please, Mulder. He’d wanted to stay until she slept, but his continued presence only made her more anxious. He had left her, weak and weepy with her legs in stirrups, as exposed and vulnerable as a person could find themselves. The nurse had offered to bring the baby to Mulder to hold, but without Scully it feels like a betrayal somehow. He is satisfied just peering through the window, admiring his perfect lips and nose.

‘Fox,’ he turns to see Maggie standing at his shoulder. Her face is tight, her clenched teeth barely restraining her anger. His stomach drops as he feels himself ride over the crest of a rollercoaster.

‘Mrs Scully. Did you just arrive?’

‘I tried to visit Dana but they said she’s sleeping.’ Maggie has yet to put her overnight bag down, her knuckles white as she grips the handles. ‘Do you mind telling me what happened? How my daughter got to Georgia?’

‘Scully, uh, she was in danger and so we thought it safest if she left DC.’ Maggie purses her lips. Mulder’s palms are sweaty. What had made perfect sense at the time was now sounding reckless and stupid.

‘I see. And why Georgia?’

‘We needed somewhere unexpected, somewhere that no one would know.’

‘How exactly did she get here?’

‘One of her colleagues drove her. Special Agent Reyes, you may have met her, she’s been working with Scully for the last, well really for the last 6 months now.’ Mulder felt with each answer Maggie was coiling tighter and tighter, preparing to strike.  ‘Scully likes her, trusts her, so it seemed like the best choice.’

‘I see. Where were you?’

‘I was trying to make sure that the people who were trying to get Scully didn’t. Couldn’t.

‘And did you succeed?’

‘No, no I didn’t. But they didn’t get her, thank god.’

‘You didn’t succeed,’ Maggie says, shaking her head slowly. ‘You sent my little girl to some abandoned town in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, running water, or even any antibacterial spray, to give birth on her own with only a colleague she’s known for 6 months for support. Is any of this inaccurate?’

‘No, it’s not.’ Mulder’s voice is quiet in contrast to Maggie’s increasing volume.

‘Do you mind telling me what on earth you were thinking?’ Maggie finally shouts, throwing her jacket at him. He catches it clumsily. ‘How could you do this, Fox? In what possible way was this the best solution?’

The tiredness, anxiety and fear which Mulder had been suppressing for the last 72 hours bursts forth, and he is suddenly possessed by rage.

‘Excuse me, Maggie, can I call you Maggie? I think it’s about time, don’t you?’ His voice is quiet but violent. Maggie blinks in surprise and takes a step back. ‘This is my son we’re talking about here. My –‘ he falters as he thinks of Scully in the third room down the corridor, sleeping while her injuries are stitched. His chest hurts with the ferocity of his love for her. ‘This is my whole world. I didn’t just send them away for a jaunt down South. It wasn’t for the fun of it. If we hadn’t have sent them away, in all likelihood we wouldn’t have either of them right now.’

Maggie presses her fingers to her lips as tears slide down her cheeks. Mulder immediately hates himself for shouting at her, she who has already lost so much as a result of Scully’s dogged insistence to stay by his side. He too blinks away tears as he realises what is about to happen next: Scully isn’t going to see her mother meet her grandchild, Scully’s miracle son. She will miss their introduction.

‘I daresay you’re right,’ Maggie mutters. ‘Everything you’ve said matches what Mr Skinner told me. I know you had no choice. But, my god Fox, another phone call, another panicked rush to a hospital, this time in Georgia. I don’t know how many more times I can do this.’

‘I know, Mrs Scully,’ Mulder rubs her shoulder tentatively, taking her bag from her.

‘Please, you’re right, you should call me Maggie,’ she huffs, wiping her eyes. ‘I know you did what you thought was best. But I can’t pretend I understand or agree with it. I think I have to ask you for a little more time before we’re in the same room together.’

Mulder nods. ‘I understand, Maggie. I want to check on Scully anyway, make sure she’s ok. Before I go, let me show you your grandson. There he is: he’s the champ in the top left. See him?’

Mulder sees her face soften, and she places her fingers lightly on the glass window, drinking in every detail of the baby.

‘Oh Fox…’, she murmurs, ‘he’s beautiful. Look at him. He looks like you, you know.’

‘You think?’

‘That bottom lip, there’s no doubt.’ She sighs. ‘He’s wonderful.’

‘Do you want to hold him?’

‘Can I? Have you?’

‘No… no. I’m going to wait for Scully… But you really should. You know how angry she’ll be if she wakes up to learn that neither of us held him this whole time. She would want you to.’

Maggie nods. Without speaking, without eye contact, she holds his hand briefly in thanks. Mulder recognises her resolve; he knows Maggie is happier now she has something practical to focus on. Her face betrays her excitement as she flags down a nurse. He carries her bag with him and opens the third door down the corridor where he is greeted by Scully’s pale face, her anxiety having vanished in sleep.

5. 2005

Mulder hears the gravel crunch under the car as Scully pulls up into the drive. He turns on the grill but stubbornly keeps his back turned as Scully and her mother enter the house. This is Maggie’s first visit to their unremarkable house, their little haven. For the last six months, Scully has met her in the city, at neutral settings or at Maggie’s place. They told each other it was for safety, that it was better for both Mulder and Maggie that they didn’t put Maggie in a position of consorting with a fugitive, but they both knew the truth: they were scared of what Maggie might say. Of how she might react to seeing Mulder again, after so many years on the run.

Scully arrived home from her first meeting with Maggie with red eyes and a stuffy nose.

How was it? Mulder had asked.

It was great. Amazing. It was so good to see her again. Her replies were short, and Mulder heard her unspoken words. They had gone to bed without speaking any further that night.

After six months, Maggie had finally asked to see where Dana and her outlaw partner were living. A Fourth of July barbeque seemed like a good occasion, the external focus distracting from any tension. Scully bought fireworks and s’mores ingredients; Mulder built a bonfire ready for the evening.

He hears footsteps on the deck and turns to see Maggie. They study each other quietly: her white hair, wrists tightly covered by crepe-paper skin, his lined face and wider jaw. He’s been waiting for this moment since Scully floated the idea with him. Now it had arrived, he realised how many lost years sat between them. Maggie stands a metre away, but the distance is a metal spring that stretches wider and wider and wider.

‘Hello Fox,’ she says, and her voice takes him back to hospitals, to phone calls, to missing people and conversations haunted by death.

‘Hi Maggie.’ He doesn’t move, and neither does she. He wants to tell her he’s sorry, but he doesn’t want to accept sole responsibility. He wants to ask for forgiveness, but he isn’t afraid of defending his choices. He wants to ask how she’s been, what their absence felt like for her, but surely the hole they left in her life is too great for him to think about patching up now. Behind him, the barbeque hisses as the fat drips from the meat.

‘Dana tells me you built this deck.’

‘I did, yes. It was my first project when we moved in. Where is Scully?’

‘She’s getting the potato salad ready.’ Mulder looks towards the house and cringes inwardly when he sees no sign of her. ‘It’s lovely out here.’

‘It is.’ Suddenly he’s sick of this dance. ‘Maggie, I want you to know –‘

‘Fox, I think we’ve had enough.’ Her assertiveness catches him unawares and he stops. ‘Don’t you agree? Enough anger, enough apologies, enough guilt.’

He nods cautiously.

‘What did Scully say about our time away?’ He asks. Maggie sighs and looks at her hands.

‘She didn’t say a lot. She mentioned motels, some kitchen work. You know how she is. She stopped talking before she got in over her head.’

‘Are you…. Mad?’

‘Oh, I’ve been mad alright. Father McCue can attest to that.’ Mulder turns back to the meat, and Maggie stands beside him. She looks so like her daughter out of the corner of his eye; there’s a familiarity between Mulder and Maggie that he’d forgotten about. All the fear they’ve shared together sits within a current of energy between them. ‘But I don’t want to be mad anymore.’

The spring suddenly snaps back into shape.

‘That’s good to hear,’ Mulder turns the meat. ‘I was afraid I was going to get my ass kicked.’

Maggie chuckles and Mulder suddenly sees that their bonfire, fireworks and s’mores will be genuinely delightful.

‘Just stay, though, please?’ She asks tentatively. He realises that their détente is quick but delicate, in need of nurture. ‘Stay here. Let me visit occasionally. Maybe there’s a room that I might one day come to think of as being mine. Just let me see you both.’

‘Maggie… Of course we will. You’re welcome here any time. At any time.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ They both turn to see Scully approaching with a tray of salad and iced tea. Her small smile is cautious and there’s apprehension in her eyes.

‘I was just about to ask Fox why the deck slants to the left.’ Maggie takes the tray from Scully and kisses her cheek.

‘Maggie, I’ll have you know this is excellent craftsmanship. It slants so the water can drain off effectively.’ They sit at the table together, with Scully looking from her mother and her partner. Her face glows in a way he hasn’t seen for years, and he squeezes her hand under the table. He is pleased to have brought her back, happy to have given her a home. She is starting to thrive. She looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears.

‘Look at me, I’m being ridiculous,’ she laughs, wiping her eyes.  ‘I’m just so glad we’re all here together.’

[hyungbean]

I’m Not Ready | Endgame

“Whatever It Takes”

One-Shot: Angst

Synopsis: Vormir always seemed like a nice place to die.

Pairing: Avengers X Younger!Reader

(Made little tweaks to the original plot of the movie)

flashback:

Helicarrier , 2012

Your POV:

“Look! It’s the star spangled man with a plan.”

Steve turned around rolling his eyes playfully. We had just captured Loki and after many failed attempts, beside from Natasha, to get information out of him, we let him be for a little. I had this terrible feeling that something wasn’t right. The god of mischief himself, giving himself up so easily, and well— not being mischievous? I can’t do math and I know that none of this adds up. But according to Bruce his mind is a bag of cats and you could practically, “smell crazy on him” so we just left the subject alone.

“Y/N.” The captain smiled at me. We were now currently walking down some hallways probably making our way to the lab to see Bruce and Tony. Steve and I had met only hours ago, but I felt a sense of trust towards him.

“Are you nervous?” The captain stopped in his tracks when hearing my sudden question and turned to me.

“For what?”

“The fight. Loki still has an army behind him, it’s inevitable really.”

“I��m not quite sure actually, you?” I smile but it falters a little. “Yeah... yeah actually. I know that I’m a lot younger than you guys and have a lot less experience. I just— I- I’m afraid of dying. Just like the thought of game over, boom, it’s done— terrifies the living crap out of me Cap. I don’t like not knowing what happens after this life. Not being in control and never waking up. It’s horrifying.” I look up at Steve with tears collecting in my waterline. After a moment Steve sighs in understanding before enveloping me in a tight hug, much to my shock.

I didn’t know it at the time, but after my little outburst, Steve swore to himself to always look over me.

flashback:

Battle Of Sokovia, 2015

Your POV:

“Agent L/N is down, I’m taking her to the quinjet. Does anyone copy?”

I faintly hear Clint yell into his earpiece. The battle was over for the most part and the people had evacuated to safety jets. Clint had ran back to a fallen market after seeing a child still scrambling out of the rubble, his mother screaming hysterically on the jet. Pietro and I had seen it before the Hawkeye, bullets pelting the ground harshly. Before Pietro could act I teleported in front of the two and put up a force field to shield us. Unluckily for me, two stray bullets managed to lodge themselves right in my shoulder and abdomen.

As of now, a frantic Clint and Pietro were scrambling towards the quinjet while I was most likely bleeding out.

“You didn’t see that coming huh old man?” I stole Pietro’s classic line but all I earned were two bewildered looks from the men. I scoffed, “jeez tough crowd”.

The adrenaline prevented me from feeling the immense pain I should probably be in. Which I hadn’t realized until after because I was probably a little delirious at the time. Once we made it to safety, Clint laid me on a bench and I let out a loud yelp as the sudden pain shot through every vein in my body. Burning like hot coals, the stinging traveled straight to the bleeding wounds.

“Holy shit! Oh my god.” I nearly screamed as Pietro clumsily ran to look for medical assistance. Clint stayed by my side, gripping my hand, “hey kid you’re going to be okay. Just don’t close your eyes.”

At this point, I was bawling my eyes out and letting whimpers past my lips.

“Oh my god. I’m dying. Clint. Please, I don’t want to go. I’m not ready yet. I’m not ready.” I frantically spit out, squeezing his hand hard, vision blurry with tears.

The pain became overwhelming and I let out one more strangled cry before letting the darkness consume me.

Present:

Vormir, 2018

Third person

Natasha, Clint and Y/N made their way up to where the soul stone was supposedly at. Vormir was a beautiful planet, although under such circumstances, it made the venture all the less exciting. Y/N had been on Titan with Tony, Strange, Peter and the galaxy gang when Thanos decided to throw a moon at the beloved man of iron. She had also witnessed Strange giving up the time stone to Thanos.

After the decimation she remained with Tony and Nebula for who knows how long, before being rescued by the flying space woman— or in other words, Captain Marvel.

Now the remaining avengers split up in teams to go through with their time heist, to undo the decimation that ruined their lives five years ago. Being in space with Nebula for so long, Y/N learned of the price that had to be paid in order to retrieve the soul stone.

One of them would not be coming out of this alive.

Y/N blanked out after meeting the floating red skull guy, the supposed keeper of the soul stone. It has been some time and Natasha and Clint paced around, in denial about the price of the stone.

Y/N was standing to the side, quietly talking to herself, looking down at her transporter and a watch. She turned around to Clint and Nat sharing a moment, foreheads together and hands clasped in each other’s. And then suddenly it happened, the pair breaks out in a fight, momentarily forgetting the young girl watching with cautious eyes a few feet away.

Y/N furrowed her brows, understanding what they were doing. They were fighting over who would get to die.

It happened so fast. One constantly stopping the other before they could reach the edge. Suddenly as Clint launched himself over the cliff, Nat followed after, a cry ripped itself from Y/N’s throat. Y/N teleported to the edge, looking down to see the crying pair, dangling from the cliff. This was it.

“Don’t worry, I’m ready now.”

The pair looked up confused, eyes widening as realization dawns on them.”

“Y/N NO-“

Suddenly, Y/N launches herself off the cliff, locking eyes with Nat and then Clint. Air swishing through her hair. Limbs tense as she plummets to certain doom.

‘It’s okay.’

Avengers Facility, 2023

“Where’s Y/N?” A tearful Black Widow and Hawkeye stood before the team, shaking from the near death experience and losing their best friend. Before either could answer they were interrupted.

‘Hey. It’s Y/N-“ Y/N’s voice suddenly rang out from the computer behind the team.

“We’re currently on Vormir. Hopefully this worked and I’m not just talking to my wrist...I know the price that we have to pay to get the soul stone, Nebula wasn’t exactly discreet about it. And for the first time I feel empowered to do what I’m going to do. Like this was my destiny, the whole reason why I wasn’t decimated all those years ago. I realized after the decimation that I can’t be forever afraid of something so much bigger than me—death. And I realized that I’m much more terrified of having one of you guys die, than me. I know we don’t trade lives Cap. But what choice do we have? But trust me, It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay, because we’re the god damn avengers... So now what, are you all going to stand around or are we gonna end this thing? “

[ikesenhell]

American Dream

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 1. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: HOLY SHIT IT HAS BEEN A MINUTE. Thank you so much to @missjudge-me, who commissioned this whole piece. You have them to thank. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get back up, but being homeless and in grad school and working and getting formally diagnosed with an autoimmune illness and being in a pandemic and moving kinda takes it out of you. This was very fun to write. Enjoy!

---

Masamune wasn’t used to his childhood bedroom anymore. His mother had converted his loft bed desk into her scrapbooking station. That was fine, in theory, except that it meant two things: one, she hadn’t changed the sheets in actual years, and two, the loft bed was still there. 

“Sweet!” He announced with a laugh, scaling the ladder in a single bound. It’d felt so tall once. He ducked low against the ceiling, pressing his back flat. “Holy hell, I was smaller then.”

“Duh.” His brother, Kojiro, smirked from the door. Time changed everything. Masamune felt so big when he was in high school himself, but looking at his teen brother changed his perspective. “You’re a big lunk now. You eat like The Rock.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Masamune kicked off his boots and army-crawled into the loft. 

“How much clearance you got?”

“Eh. Six inches from my chest to the ceiling?” He tried to roll onto his back and failed, laughing against the drywall. “Did you know about the time that I knocked myself out up here?”

Kojiro’s luminous blue eyes appeared over the lip of the bed. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Got too excited freshman year of high school, bolted straight up when the alarm went off.” He motioned at a dent in the ceiling. “I was late. Dad didn't stop laughing for about, I dunno—”

“—the whole ride there.” Kojiro chuckled. “Yeah. Sounds like him.”

The funeral wasn’t so far behind them that it didn't hurt, but it sure as hell hurt less. Masamune checked his knuckles into the dent. It was the whole reason for his coming home. His mother needed someone to sort out all of the old things, all the memories and bills she couldn’t bear to look at. It didn't matter that they’d never gotten along. Kojiro was her favorite; that was obvious (and Masamune couldn’t blame her for that, Kojiro was a joy by anyone’s standards). Even then he couldn’t let her hang in the lurch. His dad taught him better than that. 

Damn. He missed his dad. Everywhere he looked in this old town, in this old house, were reminders. There was the trashy diner where they used to get the world’s best milkshakes once a week. There was the old stove with the broken burner they’d never replaced (because it was ‘perfectly good’) where he’d learned how to cook. And it wasn’t just his father he felt the absence of. Masamune fingered along the space between the wall and the loft bed where he’d pasted all the pictures and keepsakes from his friends. Him and Nobunaga, posing in a picture by the beach with matching glasses. Hideyoshi and Mitsunari peering at homework, Mitsuhide poised to drop an ice cube down his shirt. (Nobunaga was a broker in New York City, conquering Wall Street with Hideyoshi. Those two shared an apartment in SoHo, all the way across the country on the other coast. Hideyoshi worked with Nobunaga now, and no one knew what Mitsuhide did. Mitsunari was off in the Peace Corps.) There was a snapshot of Masamune and Ieyasu squished together in the back of an old 1960s Volkswagen Beetle his mom had for decades, Ieyasu frowning over a mouthful of jalapeno poppers. Ieyasu was a doctor in Maryland now. He was terrible at texting back, too. Masamune made a mental note to call. 

And then there was Her. 

Even after all this time, he missed their friendship. He fingered the worn photograph; After-Prom senior year, her in a bikini that made his stomach somersault, him holding her on his shoulders. She was laughing. He still wore the fake eye back then, and it sat oddly in the socket, but even that didn't take away from the sheer joy as he gazed up at her. When she lived with her parents in the little green house across the street, he used to build paper airplanes with stupid jokes scrawled in the folds and fling it at her window, hoping that they’d hit and knowing they never would. They’d measure how far it got from his front door and compare their poorly-kept notes, misremembering all the numbers. 

Now she was out there in the world. 

Kojiro craned his neck over the loft edge. “What’cha got up there?”

Masamune didn't answer that. Instead he wondered if she was happy. “If I’m gonna stay here for now, we gotta fix this situation. I’m too manly and brawny to fit up here. Wanna swap beds?”

“No! This thing is so uncool, you can’t get—” And the teenager furtively checked the doorway, lowering his voice. “You can’t get anyone up here with you.”

As an adult, Masamune rolled his eyes. As a brother, he snapped back, “I promise, you can.”

“Gross, why the fuck would I trade with you now—!?”

Downstairs, their mother shouted, “Who is swearing up there!?” Kojiro paled. Masamune, bolstered with smug elder brother energy, kicked him from the ladder. 

“Move, punk! Run for your life! You fucked up!”

His mother, louder now. “Who said that?!”

“That was Masa!” Kojiro bellowed, fleeing the scene of the crime. “Masa said it that time!”

“That time!? Kojiro—!”

Masamune finally wriggled himself free from the narrow confines of the loft. On the way down, he pocketed the picture of Her. 

---

The only reason he remembered the day his dad bought the ‘85 Camaro was his mother was well and truly pissed about it. It wasn’t a pretty looking thing then. Masamune later sussed out that his dad had picked it off a side road out in the country because it was ‘a nice looking car’ and ‘could be fixed up’. Of course it could. Maybe it was his time in the military, but there wasn’t a damn car under the sun that his dad couldn’t fix. The Camaro was better than new, but his mom drove a newer Hyundai, so it sat neglected in the garage, shiny and electric blue and begging for a test run. When Masamune backed it into the driveway, his mother sighed ragged. 

“I ought to sell that thing,” she announced. 

Masamune bit back his reflex answer of ‘not on my watch’ and replied, “Kojiro’s gonna need a car when he can drive.”

“I’m going to get him something new. A nice car. That one is too old for anything now.”

“I could take it.”

“You already have that infernal death trap.” She thumbed at the Harley parked in the grass, right where she hated it most. In the name of getting along, neither of them had mentioned it. “You don’t need another car payment. Besides, don’t you have anything better to do right now? We have all sorts of things to settle with your dad’s estate.”

“Ma, the car is paid off.” But she was right in one way; he did already have a vehicle, and paying the taxes and insurance on both was a waste. It was sort of pointless, keeping the car in the garage forever. “I can’t do anything until I get the extra copies of his death certificate, and that’s gonna be a minute. I ordered them today. Did you want me to put the car on Craigslist or something?”

She gazed at it, her steel expression softening. Ah, yes. There was his mother. His parents loved each other dearly. It just took moments like this to remember it. 

“Would you?” She replied. Her feather soft voice broke his heart. “I can’t bear to do it.”

“Yeah, Ma. I’ll get it to a good home.”

---

All it really needed was a wash and an oil change. The guys at the auto parts store whistled enviously when they handed over the filters. No; it wouldn’t be hard to sell at all. No doubt he could post it on some Reddit forum and get a hundred hits in an hour. 

Masamune was about to post the listing when fate intervened. 

The driveway was warm on his bare back, the first chill wind of autumn cooling his shoulders. His phone was stark against the sharp blue sky, his shirt rolled under his hair. 

A shadow fell over him. “Masa?”

He blinked his only good eye, floundering against the sudden contrast. The woman murmured an apology, stepped away, and blinded him with sunlight again. 

“Hey!” He laugh-yelped, rolling onto his stomach. “Goddamn!”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He clutched at the Camaro’s bumper and pulled himself up, blinking sundots away. “Gimme a sec, hang on.”

And then—she swam into view, all bright eyes and curves and nothing like she used to be and everything like she used to be and so much better. Was this his friend, this fully grown woman with a face like all his best memories? Where his words? He was usually so good with them. 

“That you, Masamune?” She asked, the ghost of a smile on her mouth. 

“Well, hell.” SAY SOMETHING, YOU STUPID BASTARD. He forced a grin back—but then it arrived all on its own. “Wow. Damn. Where have you been this whole time, Kitten, Hollywood? You runnin’ everyone out of a job out there? Puttin’ those Hadids out of work?”

Her laugh was the same. Good God, it sent shivers all the way down his spine and into his toes. Her eyes crinkled and he wondered if he could bottle that expression. “You’re still calling me Kitten, huh?”

“Your fault for wearing cat socks all the time. I don’t see a reason to stop now, ‘specially now that you blinded me in my own driveway.”

Even her eye roll was a shot of nostalgia to the veins. What now? Did he shake hands? Masamune stared at his oil-slicked palms from changing the filter. “Well, if you don’t mind me smearing grease all over you… Shit, what am I asking for?”

“Oh my God, Masamune, do not rub motor oil on me!”

“Too late!” He charged forward. She squealed but didn't run; he caught her around the waist and squashed her against him, bringing her feet from the ground. Those eyes were wide with surprise and delight and so much joy. Something smelled of cinnamon and cloves. “God, is that your shampoo?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s great. You look great.”

She batted against his chest, wriggling in his grasp. “And you bulked up. What, you one of those CrossFit junkies or something now?”

“C’mon, don’t insult me like that. Their form is terrible.”

“And you ditched the glass eye.”

“It was hurting. Figured I might as well let the lid close up and deal with it. Not like I could see from it anyway.”

But she laced her hands around the back of his neck and tapped just above his brow. Such easy physical intimacy. Oh, how he’d missed that! They’d always been the most handsy of the friend group, never shying away from each other. “I wasn’t complaining. You rock the pirate look, Captain.” 

Masamune snickered and clicked his tongue. “I’ll own that. I love some booty.”

With a roll of her eyes, she let the comment slide. “You busy? Wanna catch up?”

At last he let her slide from his arms, setting her feet on the ground. Why was the world so much colder when her body parted from his? “Hell yeah. Let me make you some gyoza and we’ll chat.”

[stone-man-warrior]

December 30, 2020: 2:42:

Francis & Richard Taylor

600 Jackpine Dr.

Grants Pass Oregon

97526

End of the Road.

=============================================

What can be said about the Taylor residence?

Google can be said.

Thunderbird’s Episodes can be said.

That “Recommended” label at the top of my search can be said.

This Google email from the other day can be said:

This old one fits in somewhere too:

“The End of the Road” is going to prove to be a big deal.

The Taylor residence is at the end of the road.

“Why is the Taylor residence at the end of the road important?”

Too many reasons.

Some reasons:

If the Taylor’s are still alive, they are the longest surviving resident’s of Jackpine Dr. having moved in at 600 in 1995, to my best understanding.

If they are not alive, then I am the longest surviving resident of Jackpine Dr. having moved here in 1996.

There is no reason to believe the Taylor’s are alive. They have not been seen for more than a year, other people have been seen driving the Taylor vehicles.

The Taylor’s are/were some of the hardest of the hardcore terror murder cells for more than twenty years.

They have a dungeon sort of hole in the ground at that address, is inside of the fresh water well shed, beneath the ground, under a trap door in the floor of the well-house structure.

The Taylor’s have a old Ford Econoline Phone Company Service Van with a cage inside, the inner door-handles removed, and the van is equipped with a full size whaling harpoon taken from a whaling ship and mounted inside the van at the side doors. The van is equipped with anchor studs on all four corners attached to the frame, where they are extended into the ground at pre-arranged places where such anchoring is prepared for with some holes in the ground. One such place is the bottom of Interstate 5 southbound exit 55 where the Harpoon Van is parked, anchored, the door opens. the harpoon is shot at passing vehicles at the driver, the cars crash beneath the over-pass of the freeway, multi-car pile-up happens, State Police are there to capture the survivors. ODOT is there to clear away the wreckage with help from Wrecking Contractors such as Three Boy’s Towing. American Medical Response is on the scene for Oxcart Service to the Asante, for torture and intel gathering, and extermination of the victims who were injured.

Besides all that, the Taylor’s live next door to Grants Pass Community Church, and that place is even worse than Taylor’s.

“End of the Road”

Also, when my phone line was stolen, I called Centurylink demanding they put the phone line back, the phone line was stolen by Centurylink, who claimed “We need the phone line more than you need the phone line”. When I demanded they put it back, they say: “Sorry, you are at the End of the Line”. So, that is the whale impaled by the harpoon, on the “End of the Line”, by the “End of the Road”.

Fran Taylor drove a Red Chevrolet Impala for a long time.

Much can be said, and has been said for many years, and now, “Google” and “Thunderbird’s” can also be said when talking about 600 Jackpine Dr. at the Taylor terror cell.

It really is a big deal at the End of the Road, and has been for more than two decades.

no one goes in or out of the Taylor residence on Jackpine anymore that I can see. Who ever is living there is using alternate custom tailored entrance to 600 Jackpine from the Church parking lot on the opposite street on Russell road for ingress and egress.

This person here is part of whatever shenanigan‘s Google is pulling. It’s not a small thing, is a Big Deal.

This person bobbj77 may turn out to be Janice “Jay-Bob” Freeberg, the terror air force General. Is part of terror military branches of unconventional armed forces based here in Oregon, who do Global terror.

Janice “Jay Bob” uses a alias online “Chubacca” (I am not sure of the spelling, could be various ways) because “Chewy” (another Spelling, Aaron) is a “Jedi Space Trafficking Pilot”, that’s why.

Freeberg is presumed to have been killed already, but that is difficult to know for sure, around here, there is no “death report”, so, the only way to know someone could be dead, is when you don‘t see them around anymore, however, even that is not enough to know someone died. The terror bastards make facial impressions with plaster molds of each terror soldier, so, even if one dies, they can dress someone up to mimic the deceased terror soldier. Same is true for Citizen victims, the masks are used to lure family members of someone who they killed, or took captive, or, sometimes the terror bastards are able to convince other people to have a plaster mold made of their faces. It’s a complex, multi-faceted idea they came up with, is used for planning attack on very large families, so, one plaster mold, makes the mask, that opens all of the doors of the entire, large family, like a key does, when “Uncle Bob” is outside, he is invited into the house, because they fooled “Uncle Bob”, convinced him that a plaster mold of his face was a good idea to make.

I’ll wager that you can have such a mask mold made for you at The Mall of America at one of the stores, for a fee, and they will “Vault, and Preserve” the plaster mold of your face for you, so that the generations of your family who follow in the coming ages will have some solid thing to know who their ancestors were, so long ago. Comes with Family Tree, and Genealogy Report, and, latest copy of “Who’s Who in America, Among the (your last name goes here) Family.”

==========

Real terrorism has it worked out where when there is a “Heartfelt” news story about someone who offered a kidney to a stranger, and the doctor took the wrong kidney, then the donor and intended recipient both say “I forgive the doctor, it was an honest mistake, to Err is human“, that, is a command order.

R

ERR

Terror Err

The “Err” is “Air”.

Pirates say: Arrgghh!.

Kidney beans make “Gas”.

The Choir tugs at your heartstrings.

There is an ER involved in the news story.

The doctor was “forgiven”, it’s a Christian Attack.

“To Err is Human“ is a terror command that can be traced in old news stories.

It’s a “Stairway to Heaven“. There are thousands of them that can be written in Pyramid Form, such as that above. That is one of the ways the terror army can be certain that the command order is for real, not a trick, or “Copy Cat” fake order.

I think there is a specific number of “course” for building the text Pyramid from “Free Masonry”. I don’t have the specifics about that. I know the basics. I used “9 course” for a stop at “The 9th Hole” to have some “Airplane Vodka w/orange juice and some ice” while on course.

“O-Range” = Holy Range = Holy See = The Universe = The Place Where Orion Hunts = A Ryan‘s Hunting Grounds = The Lion’s Range = The King, See?

(”A Ryan!“ is what the children say when Ted Nugent shows up with Kid Rock and Sarah Palin (”Sara a pail in the house?”) with the whole Safari terror cell, and tells the captive children: “You have thirty seconds to out-run this African Lion...”  then he only counts to ten.)

(you could take the kidney Tug Boat a long way into the “Russian Mother of all Hoaxes” to see where it goes, and from whence it came)

(4:46 pm: Airplane fly’s over my house in response to “Google scout online backdoor spies” getting “Airplane Vodka” blips on their Google Powered RADAR)

=================

4:50 pm:

In other news, at the Walmart, they have a potato chip product on sale there, they are some kind super over processed potato product shaped in the form of a squared rectangular prism hollow shape, “Rancher’s?” “Ranch Ranger’s?”... I forget, but the idea is that you can now insert the chip into the Ranch Dressing Dip, and begin to suck all of the Ranch you care to choke on, through the straw shaped chip product. Amazing.

==================

5:30 pm:

Local Update:

I walk to the mailbox was enlightening.

Unbelievable. After saying some things about Freeberg and “Chewy”, inside of one of the two addressed mailboxes I have on the mailbox bank on the road contained a advertisement that says: “Chewy” on it!.

Must be special delivery.

That, and a advertisement that says I can get a free meal at Elmer’s Restaurant.

Both were inside a mailbox I don‘t use anymore, the house it goes to is vacant unless I want to stay there. Someone has removed the contents of that other mailbox, I left some items in it, I’ll keep that private, just in case. So, that one is empty now, there was a rubber band I keep wrapped around the box lid so the mail carrier and others won’t bother it, but, that did not keep the thief out. Rubberband’s and Scotch Tape don‘t go as far as they once did.

All sign’s point to my daughter is held prisoner somewhere, without indication of where to look. In the past, this kind of thing was done with some small personal information tid-bits to get me to go rescue my family at various places, Taylor’s at 600 “End of the Road” was one of them. They put what looks like clues left by a family member, then, I make a phone call, then, on the phone call, Taylor’s have a Police Surveillance Stingray they stole from the state police they killed a long time ago. With that, the Taylor’s insert vocal performance scripted spoken words into a cellular phone call, along with the conversation to the family member I am concerned about. That Stingray along with those small tid-bits of personal information they insert and left laying around for me to find, that were also gained from that same and other Stingray’s, is used to make me “Know” where my family is held captive, and is the reason why I made the phone call to check to see if everyone is OK.

So I go to Taylor’s and into the fresh water-well building to see where my family is at, tear up the fake floor, and see that there are indeed some people in that hole under the floor in the well house at Taylor’s. I get those people out, none of them are my family. I look around, go home, call again to the family. They say everything is OK. I call the police, they tell me Taylor’s says I trespassed. The Sheriff comes to my house, looking for the people that were in that hole in the well house at Taylor’s End of the Road.

The Sheriff is wanting to arrest me, but there are missing prisoners from the well house, he does not have time to arrest me, he needs to go find those prisoners, who all took off running like a bat out of hell when the floor opened up. The Sheriff only wants to put them back into that hole in the Taylor’s water-well house utility building dungeon.

But that was a long time ago, there are no more people to capture to put into the hole in the Taylor’s water-well building. All of the US Citizens are all dead, killed by the Canadian terror army, or are held captive somewhere.

Other than the mail box having been tampered with, it was quiet, cold, and drizzly. Some mechanical moaning sounds were heard from the north west.

A single solitary Canadian Goose flew from the north to the south, seemingly in some kind of distress, very concerned sounding goose flew overhead, did not sound like a happy goose.

Some lights came on at Chapman‘s County Court’s terror cell at the Horse Stable area, as they do most days at about this time of day.

That, and my medical insurance bill arrived.

I should have received my Pacific Power Bill by now, but that is not in the mailbox this week. It usually shows up around the 27th or so, give or take holiday considerations, Clyde Baum, and mail thief terror spies.

=============================================

Skip a head to the 4:00 mark to see what is going on, pay attention to the 4:09 mark.

(I was there at that interview, I was supposed to be the one asking the questions, but got hijacked, that other kid took over, they put me under that orange table. There was black convertible car with push-button transmission that brought me there, I think it was Jim Morison’s car, but he had jumped out of the Capital Record’s Building top floors years before that interview took place)

===========================

News Flash! This Just In!

That part about having been there at that interview was accompanied by incoming phone call from SAGClubMed Junket Services and Sword Sharpening at Pain Specialists of Southern Oregon.

Incoming at 6:33 pm from “The Doctor”. They left a message. I’ll have a look later... they can wait out in the rain and cold for awhile.

That call means that the Safari “SOPS” (that’s what the pain center is called) terror cell is at Chartrand’s and at Strong’s terror cells. also going to be at 598 Jackpine, and at Sparacino’s at 545. If any high roller’s are with them, then, that is exactly who I want to speak with personally. I don‘t want to fuck around with scalawags.

I want the Captain’s head on platter.

Those persons will be at Wesley Crowel’s terror cell, at 549 Jackpine.

The Captain of the ship is that pilot of that King Air Beachcraft the flew overhead yesterday. It’s at Grants Pass Municipal Airport most likely, roled into a goat barn somewhere nearby.

I smell Rendata terror. Merlin Oregon.

=====

7:13 pm:

Mick Taylor shows up on Secret Decoder Ring RADAR.

===========

7:17 pm:

For the Hail Mary:

Check surveillance video at Grants Pass Walmart 12-29-2020 at about 3:30 pm-ish at the dairy where the milk is at. The subject suspect is a tall person 5′ 11″ or taller, is about 240 pounds (could be sterling, so, about 17 Stone, give or take a Jagger). Subject is wearing Road Kill Hat. Some kind of dead animal with long tail draped across the left shoulder, grey/blonde sort of dead, road kill hat.

Smells Mickey to me.

==============

8:00 pm:

Here she comes now....

(steer clear of the karaoke version on this one, these guys had special breathing apparatus to get through it alive)

===================

8:10 pm:

I’m still trying to reach Pittsburgh.

I don‘t mean to be cold about it, it’s just so urgent is all.

You do remember the Thunderbird’s Episode 2, Pit of Peril... with that giant elephant roach that tossed all of the US Military into that hole don‘t you?

LBJ? Remember?

I remember MK Ultra School. They made us dive under a boat, into a hole in the bottom, to swim over to another hole in the boat so we could be put into a converted decompression chamber turned sound studio on a US navy boat in LA Harbor.

“You need a bag to survive”  they said as we went into the water with a baggie filled with air so we could make it to the other hole in the bottom of the boat.

I also learned: “What can be said about this?” lesson for problem solving.

That lesson “What can be said about this?”, I am convinced, is the Mother, of the Mother of all Russian Hoaxes. That lesson, is how they built the Russian Fractal, and all of the layers of stacked up connected lies of which the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes is composed of.

Consider that when an apple is the subject for the lesson, the students will goof off, and include some borderline qualifying answers, but there are no wrong answers, ever, those are the rules.

So, that apple has a core.

Peanut butter is on the list.

So is sharp cheddar cheese, and pie.

It’s the beginnings of Fractal Soup. Soon, peanut butter cake happens on the list, Frank Zappa lived on Wilbur Ave., he says “meat cake”, it’s been in the fridge for awhile, looks like meat, looks like cake... at 2:00 am, must be meat-cake. Marie Antoinette is there, that hot chick at the end of the bar before it closed. “Let them eat cake”...

There is no apple pie anymore... the Fractal ate it.

“Why is Uncle Fester’s head in the refrigerator?” happens next day, or three.

You can get there from an apple, and take over the world. it turns out.

That’s how they built it.

================================================

8:49 pm:

I remember now.

“We need songs to fill in these gaps” they said.

It happened over and over again throughout all of the bands and songwriting I did throughout my life. “Orders from On High”... It just sometimes was by a request from someone I knew, or friends of band mates. The seeds for the ideas for musical content often were from a visit to a music store.

Look at the producers name: Garry Necessity

Look at who is hosting the show: John Denver, Mile High City. That means Royal Canadian Mounted Police in 1973 in USA, either for real, or as a subliminal message with “Denver Necessity”.

“Bob Lolly” is Vatican Choir, not a real name, it’s the “Law Lee”... “Wind-Word Ho!” (”Wind Word Whore” initialized  WWII because of the scales are not working:  II = “  locked and loaded initialization sequence begins in 1973 here with that presentation, to build that Russian Mother of all Hoaxes... it started right there, that night, at Midnight ) as stated by RCMP from Windsor Castle, Windsor Royalty, all symbolized with a few names, a band called Aarrgent, a song about the prize, heads, w/ US Flag lit up in back, no blue field, just bulbous stripes. (see Thunderbird’s episode 5 Edge of Impact at 44:33 mark. There is the place where in 1965 the plan to collect human heads “water-member” = US Citizens for this specific Fractal View only. There, that bulb on Tin Tin‘s head is the same as the Flag background made of bulbs at “Denver Necessity Midnight Special Aarrrgent’s Meating of the Minds”. “Burt Sugarman“ is how we know it’s a “meating of the Mine’s”

The thing above is very rough decode of a complicated mess.

Maybe I’ll find more parts to the puzzle and clean up the explanation at another time. That is a big piece of puzzle parts, lots of glue is splattered all over the place right there. Close to the Sun. Short on time right now, so I put here rough.

=====

9:34 pm:

I am stuck at a place where the terror attack was going on, throughout the 1970′s and beyond that... they were doing “3% Taking”, at places where US Citizens were drawn to, three percent of a given population killed, ID’s processed, look-a-like replacements found in Canada to carry on as murdered US Citizens, using the names of the victims.

Then, at some point there is a place when evidence will show in news stories at the time they switched focus of “3% Taking” to the “$5 Walmart Service Counter Exchange Program” where each human head was worth $5.

There will be a way to see it in news stories, that $5 transition, or maybe it was a $5 addition to the Russian Hoax of attack language. I suggest 2001 is that time when “$5/head” was added to the Hoax Language, “The Huckleberry Fin“, “The V’s, Flying” (Pope plays the blues turnaround with his Flying V at Trade Center). So, “What can be said about $5?” needs to happen, w/focus at 2001 news stories to match the output of that.

For contemporary Presidential considerations, that bulb on Tin Tin‘s head marks a time when “A Head = A Bulb”, and the “Bulbs in Line are US Citizens in Line” when that is carried over to the “Denver Necessity” bulb-flag. So, everything Trump says about Incandescent Light Bulbs could prove as treasonous terror command language. Then, for a 2020 election view, Mike Bloomberg is actually Ronnie James Dio (for real) and the song “Last In Line” develops new importance and meaning far after it’s original release date.

There is a Mother Load of information contained within that Argent Midnight Special performance of Hold Your Head Up. Heads = Bulbs from that point on in some circles for command language. Further consideration is that the “Bulb” is a Vatican High Command idea, all other iterations done by others downstream in the command chain are lower in rank. The word bulb, it turns out, is very clean, I can‘t think of other ways to say “bulb”, though there are many different kinds of bulbs, it seems to always be a bulb, like the Jim Dunlop, the Pope’s change sometimes, but the Jim Dunlop is always the Jim Dunlop.

Right there, there is a folk story about a Carpenter who needs to change a light bulb, he builds a scaffold to reach the lightbulb that is way, way up high. Brings lumber, nails, an apprentice, and a light bulb. They work to change the bulb, get that done, take the scaffold apart, and go home. They can see now, after changing the bulb. Laborer’s Union comes by, someone pushes a broom to clean up some dropped nails and saw dust. Decorators Union comes by, puts the furniture back where it goes, and shuts the curtains.

There is an argument that happens at the Carpenter’s Union District Counsel HQ when the Electrician’s Union finds out that the Carpenter changed out the light bulb. The Electrician is supposed to change the bulb, not the Carpenter. So they argue. The Carpenter just wanted to go home, did not want to wait for the electrician. The Electrician said he could not wait around for the Carpenter to build the scaffold. Please Wait. Please Wait. Please Wait. Please Wait. Please Wait...

Communication Contractors Union gets involved, it’s an argument, so, that’s their thing they do, are are upset that they were not consulted about the Carpenter vs Electrician argument.... so....Please Wait happened in the communications with a glitch.

Those Midnight Specials were all Live Performances it looks like, and is the way I recall from watching back then. There is no Lip Sync going on. That is also a substantial thing to consider, all is live, not exactly the way people, the “Fans”, heard the music from the radio air play. The title of the show, is like it represents the time period between when the bulb burned out, and the Carpenter replaced it. “Midnight Special”, a time of darkness, has a lot meaning, depth. The absence of the Orange 12 on the Walmart Two-Hour Clock is noted, or, Fast Forward, to the Presence, of the Orange 12 on the Walmart Two-Hour Clock.

“The Object”

From the Led Zeppelin Presence album.

I have a bad feeling about the upcoming 10:00 hour tomorrow. it will be 10:00 for 24 hours somewhere in the world, twice. All green, for 48 hours, Walmart style, but with a 50/50 Bar from the ice cream truck, in the neighborhood.

Starting very soon.

It’s 10:49 pm. 12-30-2020.

=========================================

11:34 pm:

Local Update:

I took a walk to the road, it’s wet, not a as cold as it was a few hours ago, silent, only the sound of drops of water onto the ground from trees and rain gutters.

That place were Monroe’s cleared that brush is all arranged like a little not so private camp site. There is a log on the edge of the camp site, some chairs are there around a central camp fire that has been maintained to burn a little bit, just smoldering away, nice and easy.

But I see more than the face value of the charade, the bamboo was all cut away for a reason, not to maintain privacy that’s for sure. I see “Cam Sight” made with newly opened up viewing to the path I walk from a variety of vantage points there at Monroe’s. I get along to that spot on my walk, and the conditions change ever so slightly. The water well they have over there is either worn out and makes a lot of whistley noises, or, is a speaker playing an annoying and steady whine of a whistle sound, so, as I get there, to the “Cam Sight”, that is when the water well pump there starts, or stops, just as I get to that spot to see if it’s safe to pass by on my walk. Just now, as I went down the driveway there was an odor of rubber burning, like a tire smells when it burns, but only lasted a very short time before the odor was no longer there. Then my belly started to rumble, I could here the sound of my stomach, so, there is that gas the does that over there, only in that part of the driveway, so I come home and that symptom is not happening now. There still is a A-1 Exterminators Van over there in the driveway full of poisons. They use it as a cover for some of the poisons they are using on me for the past five years.

As I walked by the Cam Sight a second time, a yard light switched on over there, there is a Suzuki Samuri, a dark grey one they keep moving around the yard to get me to say “Samuri” so they can record the sounds from the implanted microphone transmitter that is in my jaw. They use the edited recordings to fool the federal fools who don‘t learn no matter how many they send over here and are killed at Monroe’s or by the local fake authorities.

So, I pass by a camera, that signals the Monroe assholes to turn on a light where there is a Samuri in the spot light, to get a reaction from me, while making confusion service about a different Suzuki Samuri at Clyde Baum’s house at 333 which is also parked not far away from a travel trailer. The one at Clyde’s is a white one. For more confusion, that grey Samuri is the second stolen Samuri they have had there, the first one was a black one. There were a few months between Samuri’s at Monroe’s, so, that is when Clyde got a hold of the white one to put on display to entertain the federal fools with, no one ever drives either one, they are both stolen and on display as bait that catches federal fools.

====================

12-31-2020: 12:26 am:

Terror bastards are still changing what I write. The shit needs to stay as written, it’s national security, is not fucking game... they change smaller and smaller little details, but ones that have consistently been done.

Parentheses are important, I close them out. The bastards are removing the closed parentheses, and there are thousands of examples on this account where the parentheses are hijacked, stolen.

They double the text. Two instances of the same word.

When I use the spell check for a spelling error, the edit does not stay, or is changed to a different choice in the suggested list.

The word “The” is inserted all over the place where I use any word that starts with “TH”.

“He” is inserted throughout my writings by some terror religious cult bastards.

Sometimes the entire lines of text vanishes and on occasion a whole lengthy report is yanked away as I write, is deleted and gone.

For people who might help, you should know there is command orders that come through Twitter for these kinds of changes to happen. You have to find a graphic that shows some quoted text on Twitter, the people who do Nikki Haley’s Twitter account used to make a lot of these commands with a graphic that shows a very large single non closing “Curly Quote Mark” in a graphic where some quoted text is made to look very pretty, all typeset nice and neat, but with only one of the quote marks that are supposed to be there. Those are command orders to go fuck with someone’s text entries. Many accounts at Twitter do that same thing to make that command order.

Tumblr is made difficult to use intentionally. The whole Google controlled internet is involved with keeping people silenced. When there are no other ways to get help, when FBI.tips.gov has failed as it has, then the people will turn to social media for help. Twitter makes for a handy trap to find and remove such people who make online reports simply because all of the people we need to reach are all right there, but are just out of reach on the other side of the computer screen. People in distress reach out, are tracked down, hunted from IP address, and killed. So I choose Tumblr because it’s free to use, any place where a person needs to make reports of eye-witness must be a place that will stay there even if the author of the information is killed, so, if that happens when the reporting is done on a pay to use writing web site, then the bill won’t be paid, and the information is deleted for non payment, but the person is dead, is trying to help others to solve problems, and those who control the websites, simply refuse to offer any help at all, only send assassins, they could be held liable for something that is written on their “pay as you go” web sites, so they are not going to get involved with trivial national or Global mass murder terrorism presented in detail on their platforms. It’s much safer financially to hit a delete button than to solve Global Terrorism, that is hard work, and unfortunately there is no one on Earth willing to solve any problems, not until they are held captive by the Global Terrorists, then, “I understand now” is the famous last words, while the henchmen grease the grooves where the blade comes down, works much smoother with some lube.

I chose Tumblr because it’s free and will stay when I am killed by the terrorists, I stay at Tumblr for other reasons, because it’s a trap. The reason is that in order to get my content downloaded onto my computer, I have to go to each individual entry, and download each one all by it’s self. Tumblr is difficult and clumsy to use on purpose, and they trap you here, so that the effort to download something like 800 entries is too daunting especially when my life depends on me continuing to spend my time adding more detail to help others to help me, not spending a month doing individual downloads of each page only to have spend additional time to re-post and reformat everything to fit into a different platform. That takes a lot of effort, I did that once already, a week to do about 300 posts, all day, just trying to make it fit from Google+ Format. The information presents differently on individual platforms. So, to retrieve the information so I can post it somewhere else is too time consuming. They do not offer a complete archive download here at Tumblr, and that is by design to keep me quiet. The controls are clumsy to make the information difficult to read, there are no choices for what font I might want, there is one font, the one you see here, no way to change to a serif font for easier reading, maybe the information will delete on it’s own by the way the place is set up all clumsy easy to make a mistake, and there people on the other side of the screen changing things as I am writing them down, live, while I write I see the words being changed out.

=======================

12-31-2020: 2:07 am:

This Premier Guitar Promotional email command order from Vatican Choir HQ serves as the Enormous Curly Quote I was referring to. It arrived 12-30-2020 at 1:15 pm.

That is Brian May and someone else, a “Videographer” as the story is told.

What it really is, is Curly, that bald man, from Three Stooges, he is with Queen of Curly, Brian May, to say: “Curly Quote Mark”, and that is me, and this Tumblr account. Might be Sir Brian May... have to turn it around backwards, and upside down to see what gender it is, so, send it over, I’ll give you a full report in the morning.

[airariaira]

Troisième - 12/02/20

It’s been more than a month, and holy heck time has truly flown. Yet somehow I feel like I have been here for a while, too. I’m feeling more settled and comfortable here in Troyes - I can get to and from school fine, and I don’t jump up with fright at every bus stop on the way home alone, worried about missing my stop! I couldn’t even imagine getting lost now. I feel confident enough to explore a bit more, and this afternoon I took a walk a little in town and along the Seine, because the weather was gorgeous. That was of course until i was 15 minutes away from home and the wind picked up, then suddenly there was needles of rain soaking through my jacket and my bag and my jeans. Honestly, I felt very personally attacked by the weather at that point. On a day that only a few hours earlier had looked like this from my window?:

It was so gorgeous outside with my window open, I could hear the traffic and the birds and the breeze - the air coming in was a little cold, but in that nice fresh winter way. I couldn’t possibly not go outside. So, after my two hours of school this morning (Philosophy and English Literature), I decided to go on a little walk exploring:

^A padlock fence I saw while walking along the river

^This is one of the ol chimneys from the 19th-century factories in Troyes. Troyes has been a city famous for producing clothing and goods for hundreds of years, and you can see these bad boys pop up all around. I also met some cute new friends:

So what if these new friends are paintings of cats on the streets? This is MY blong, you’re not allowed to judge me.

Since my last blog post, a fair amount has happened, I’ll catch you all up... Which won’t be too hard for me to do, seeing as I started writing a travel diary to keep up to date with what I’ve been doing - unlike Mr Alex Gasson it seems, as he wrote in his blog (which, by the way, you can find on this link here) Lets go all the way back to Saturday the 26th of January, the morning of which I wrote my last blog post. That afternoon we took a trip out to my host family’s house by the lake (called La Lac d’Orient) in the pretty, historic village of Géraudot only a little while away from Troyes. We went for a walk around the nearby forest, which was gorgeous. We heard a woodpecker, too.

The lake is man-made, not natural, and is where water from the Seine is redirected to avoid flooding out Paris each year. On the shore, there’s a small plastic path down to the water to make the lake more accessible for those with disabilities. I thought that was good, I’m surprised I’ve never seen anythign like it before. 

Following the walk, we went back to the house for a coffee and a board game. That evening on the way back to the city, we stopped by the outlet store shopping centre. I found a little bit of home there...

(I pinkie promise that the bag has gifts in it! For other people!) Sunday the 26th was a slightly warmer day, which I suppose was a bit of a last hurrah, because the forcast for the following week was not so good. On that day I went out with my host mother Marie, we went to another museum. This is in a building called Hôtel de Vauluisant, which houses both the Musée d’Art Champenois, and the Musée de la Bonneterie. The art section was so phenomenally beautiful - filled with old paintings and sculptures and stained glass from the many many churches in Troyes. The section on Troyes’ factory and bonneterie history had many machines from the early factories of the city. This is the area outside of the building:

After that, we went to a beautiful church just across the road from the museum. The inside of the church took me aback for two reasons. One, because if was so incredibly beautiful inside, filled to abundance with enormous paintings, sculptures, and flowers. Two, because it was so freaking cold inside. I coud see my breath cloud out probabaly more dramatically than it has during any winter commute to school in New Zealand. That said though, it was definitely worth the visit. I never knew churches could be so decked-out in beautiful things. I don’t think a picture could capture how pretty it was, but here you go anyway:

Monday the 27th was a pretty standard French school day. I ended up with a bit of a migraine so had a quiet day. That evening we (my host siblings Lola and Antoine, and my host mother Marie) did some English revision for Antoine’s upcoming English exam, which was fun. Tuesday the following day was another good school day. I had a lot of free hours, so I went into town for a while. Wednesday was of course my short day. That afternoon I went out with two new friends, Cheyenne and Alicia, to the museum and town. It was good fun! Cheyenne and I at the museum:

The weekend of the 1st/2nd was good. On Sunday in the afternoon we went bowling. The cousin of my host siblings, who’s from Boston and living in Paris for a year, came and joined us. Her name is Noa, and she stayed from Sunday to Wednesday to celebrate her birthday. On Monday I finally handed out the rest of my New Zealand souvenirs in my English class. At lunchtime I sat with Juliette and some others. Juliette lived in Christchurch for a year a little while ago! Tuesday the 4th was Noa’s birthday. School was interesting, with lots of free periods spaced out throughout the day (awkward timing!) We couldn’t find a spare classroom for French Literature which was weird?? That evening, we celebrated Noa’s birthday with raclette and then cake. On Wednesday she left back for Paris - I wonder if one day we’ll meet again in this big old world? That evening I went wandering around town with Marie for a while again, and I got a photo in front of the famous Cœur de Troyes:

It lights up at night and the red light beats like a heart. I’ll be interested to see how many couples will be taking their pictures in front of it on Friday for Valentine’s Day! Last Friday I walked to the bus stop with a new appreciation for how pretty the city is. I start school at 9, so get to see the way the morning sun hits the old buildings so beautifully. The sky was so blue and the light so nice, I don’t know if a camera could capture it quite so perfectly:

And on Saturday the 8th... Paris!!! I travelled over with my host sister Lola, and we met Marie there. The day seemed to last for so long while it was happening, but somehow I found myself suddenly sitting on the train back to Troyes again. Now, it feels like it went by so fast. We started with the Tour Eiffel, naturally, where I took a video - and unintentionally caught someone proposing! Everything there was so big and old and impressive - it sumultaneously felt surreal, and like it was exactly where I was meant to be. 

Following the Eiffel Tower, we took a short cruise on the Seine on the Bateau Mouches to sightsee a little bit. It was so bitterly cold and windy on the water, but the sculptures and cuildings and bridges were pretty enough to make up for it. Here’s a picture of a scaled-down model of the Statue of Liberty, and the Eiffel Tower in the same frame:

After lunch, we had our little indulgence in consumerism by going to the Galleries Lafayette, where all the expensive brands and rich are piled into one big, pretty shopping centre. It was sparkly and dazzling, and I don’t think I’ve every been surrounded by so many expensive things in my life before. It smelled like money and every kind of perfume all at once. Just how Jay Gatsby would have liked it. Here’s me on the roof:

It was such a long way down! After that, we went to the Arc de Triomphe. It’s so incredibly huge in person. It was wonderful to see all of the avenues surrounding me while on the roof (getting rained on... am I making a habit of that?) The rain didn’t drain my spirits, however. It was so cool to admire the bustle of Parisian life happening all below me. 

The view from the top:

(I think the stairs were worth it... I’m not sure what the other two think though...   🤔)

I was so tired after that big day that on the train ride back home I just stared into space for the entire hour and a half! Throughout the day, I kept waiting for one of those slack-jawed tourist moments to hit me, a feeling of helpless amazement when I looked at some monument or the like. But it didn’t - perhaps I’m just better at enjoying travel in a slow, contented kind of way. The rain in Paris on Saturday would prove to be the beginning of a storm that would last a few days. On Monday the 10thI was very happy to be sitting inside, writing my travel diary, rather than outside in that rain and wind I could hear against the roof and walls. All in all, I’ve been really enjoying my time on exchange. Sometimes I do truly feel a little out of my depth - like I’m wasting my time here is I speak much English, but I just can’t always articulate myself fully in French. Sometimes I feel a little out of place and behind when I’m around my peers and they’re speaking such rapic French. However, it does get easier each day. I feel happy and comfortable here.

Here’s some more photos, just so I can flex on my people back in New Zealand about how pretty this city is...

^A fountain the bus goes past each day, taken on one of the rare occasions that the bus isn’t packed to the brim and I manage to grab a seat!

^A pretty sculpture in town

^A church with a gorgeous roof that’s just behind the house

^Some more pretty houses (gosh I must look like such a weirdo taking pictures of all these buildings)

^A pretty street in pretty afternoon light

^A very ~zenn~ little square nestled in buildings in town

Aaand last but not least...

A prime example of the memes and doodles that are copied onto the blackboard during recreation. (Shh - don’t tell the teacher who drew what!) Until next time!

[moved202347]

Hekate / Hecate

(from my old amino before I got banned 😂, pretty much copy n pasted for reference)

Dogs/puppies [from https://hekatecovenant.com/resources/symbols-of-hekate/dogs/] -The dog was connected to spirits, the home (as a guard), a friend of the family, also symbolising an easy birth and fertility.  Represents the earth element. Also known as the 'black bitch'. Originated in ancient hymns, writings, ancient Greek pottery, stone carvings and statues. Its first symbolism came from the Trojan Queen Hekabe who leapt into the sea after the fall of Troy. Hecate took pity on her and turned her into a black dog which became her familiar. In some Greek towns, black female dogs were sacrificed in Hecate's honour, usually at night. Cerberus, the three-headed hound who guards the entrance of the Underworld is additionally connected to Hecate. In American + European folklore, dogs have always been seen as supernatural in the nature of what humans can't see. Black dogs are thought to roam the locations Hecate holds sacred; desolate roads, moors, cemeteries and the crossroads. Dogs attend her as she roams these desolate spaces. 

Dragons [credit to https://hekatecovenant.com/resources/symbols-of-hekate/dragon/]- There are loads of epithets of Hecate. One of her epithets comes from the name 'propylaya' meaning 'she who stands before the gate'. Her hound is believed to be the three-headed dog Cerberus who guards the gateway into the Underworld and some myths believed that dogs replaced dragons. There is imagery associated with Medea with riding her flying chariot escaping from Korinthos after the murder of the king Kreon. Her dragons were a pair of winged, serpentine dragons. 

Black lamb - A preferred sacrificial offering to Hecate. In modern times, it would be more suitable to have a representative of a black lamb such as a statue or photograph , or somehow getting a living black female sheep into your house without wrecking havoc in front of your altar (I don't recommend having a living animal on your altar!). 

Fire breathing Horse or Bull - Represents the fire element. It was symbolic of Hades fiery soul. Hecate is often seen in images crowned with bull-like crescent horns. Black bulls became heavily associated with Hecate as sacrificial animals in necromancy rituals. It is a constant reminder of her powers as creator and destroyer symbolised by the phases (waxing and waning) of the moon and seen in the crescent horns of a bull.

·🖤·

Hydra headed snake or serpent [https://archetypicalwitchcraft.wordpress.com/2014/01/24/understanding-hekate-part-5-the-meaning-of-her-ancient-symbols/]- A solar and underworld symbol. Represents the water element. It was an ambivalent symbol just like the dog, it was connected to the sun, healing and regeneration. Yet there was also a link to the spiritual side, the underworld too. There was old folklore which believed spirits would appear as a snake to bless the house. Snakes, like domestic animals was said to be able to see and feel the presence of spirits, so they were used in necromancy and magic to figure out if there was spirits around. 

·🖤·

Other associations are: frogs or toads; black bulls (draped in wreaths of yew and was then slaughtered in her honour);belladonna (poisonous herb!), cypress; dittany; mandrake; honey (anything sweet), dark chocolate (modern interpretation!); red wine (of course only if your in the age to use it, though your not going to be drinking it!);  torches;  infernal spirits; dagger; ebony; knives or daggers (obviously be safe and don't do any silly things with it!); twin torches; magickal brewing (so potions); silver; grey; bats; rope; black; mental health; hearth and home; dreams; divination; cauldrons; fate. MORE HERBS:  hazel, black poplar, cedar, willow, garlic, thyme, almonds, myrrh, mugwort, mint, dandelion, cardamom, hellbore, belladonna, hemlock, mandrake, hecateis (aconite, wolfsbane [poisonous]) opium poppy, verbena, sage, purple honeysuckle, camomile. Any hallucination herbs (be careful obviously and know your stuff and even then check it with someone who also knows their stuff). Owls, bears, ravens, cats (possibly) and donkeys. 

She is associated with yew, garlic, all poisonous herbs (use representations, so little tiny mushroom statues), oak, white, red, purple, ferrets (polecats), healing, healing herbs (more of the stronger ones and notorious ones), keys (Knowledge, unlocking wisdom, seeing the truth), mandrake, lamps, saffron, sandals in bronze or gold, whips, iron, the wolf, mullet (the blood-coloured goatfish), the new moon, twilight (best time to do rituals with her).

·🖤·

Also MORE epithets ("An epithet is an honorary and praiseful descriptive title used as part of a name."), all taken and sourced from http://www.patheos.com/blogs/matauryn/2017/07/19/many-epithets-hekate/. 

Adamantaea ‘Unconquerable’, ‘Untamable Goddess’

Admêtos ‘Indomable’, ‘Unconquered’

Aenaos ‘Eternal’

Agallomenen Elaphoisi ‘Rejoicing in Deer’

Agia ‘Sacred’, ‘Holy’

Aglaos ‘Radiant’

Agriope ‘Wild-eyed’, ‘Fierce-faced’, ‘Savage-watcher’, ‘wild-voiced’

Agrotera ‘Huntress’

Aidônaia ‘Goddess of Hades’, ‘Of the Underworld”

Aimopotis ‘Blood-drinker’, ‘Murderer’

Aiônos ‘Eternal’

Aizêiοs ‘Vigorous’

Aktinochiatis ‘Radiant haired’, ‘With Rays for Hair’

Aktiophis [Of Unknown Meaning]

Alexeatis ‘Averter of Evil’

Alkimos ‘Powerful’, ‘Strong’, ‘Stout’, ‘Brave’

Amaimaketos ‘Unconquerable’, ‘Raging’, ‘Invincible’, ‘Unapproachable’, ‘Uncontrollable’

Ambrotos ‘Immortal’

Ameibousa ‘One That Transforms’

Amphiphaes ‘Circumlucent’

Amphiprosopos ‘Double-faced’

Amphistomos ‘Double-mouthed’

Anassa ‘Queen’

Anassa Eneroi ‘Queen of the Dead’

Androphonos ‘Killer of Men’

Angelos ‘Messenger’

Antaian Theou ‘She Who Meets’

Antania ‘Enemy of Mankind’

Aôroboros ‘Devourer of the Prematurely Dead’, ‘Devourer of the Untimely Dead’

Apanchomene ‘The Hanged One’

Apotropaios ‘Averting’, ‘Averter’

Aphrattos ‘Unnamed One’

Arêgos ‘Helper’

Archikos ‘Royal’

Ariste ‘The Best’

Ariste Cthonia ‘Best of the World’, ‘Best in the World’

Arkuia / Arkyia ‘Spinner of webs’, ‘Entrapper’

Arrhetos ‘Ineffable’

Astrodia ‘Star-walker’, ‘Star-Courser’

Atala ‘Tender’, ‘Delicate’

Atasthalos ‘Pretentious’, ‘Reckless’, ‘Presumptious’

Athanatos ‘Immortal’, ‘Of Immortal Fame’

Autophyês / Autopheus ‘Self-generating’. ‘Self-begotten’

Azonos ‘Without Borders’

Azostos ‘Ungirt’, ‘Without a Belt’

Baridouchos ‘Barque-holder’, ‘Skiff-holder’

Basileia ‘Queen’, ‘Princess’

Bolos ‘Far-Thrower’,

Boôpis ‘Cow-eyed’

Booporos ‘Ox-Herder’

Borborophorba ‘Eater of Filth’

Boukolos ‘Ox-Herder’

Brimô ‘Angry-One’, ‘Terrifying’

Buthios ‘Abysmal’, ‘Of the Depths’

Charopos ‘Ferocious-aspected’, ‘Fierce’, ‘Grim’, ‘Flashing’, ‘Bright, ‘Having blue-grey eyes’, ‘of the Sea’

Chthonia ‘Chthonic’, ‘Of the Earth”

Chrysôpis ‘Golden-faced’

Chrysosandalos ‘of Golden Sandals’

Chrysosandalaimopotichthonia ‘Goddess of the Lower World Wearing Golden Sandals and Drinking Blood’

Chrysostephanos ‘Golden-Crowned’, ‘Crowned with Splendor’

Chrysostephês ‘Golden-crowned’

Dadophoros ‘Torchbearer’

Dadouchos ‘Torch-bearer’

Daeira ‘The Knowing One’

Daidalos ‘Cunning’

Damasandra ‘Dominator of Men’, ‘Subduer of Men’

Damnamene ‘Means of Constraint’

Damnodamia ‘Subduer of Subduers’

Damnomeneia ‘Dominating Force’

Dasplêtis ‘Horror’, ‘Frightful-one’

Deichteira ‘Teacher’, ‘Revealer’

Deinos ‘Terrible’

Despoina ‘Lady’, ‘Mistress’

Dione ‘Goddess’

Doloessa / Doloeis ‘Astute-one’, ‘Subtle’, ‘Wily’, ‘Cunning’

Drakaina ‘Serpent’, ‘Dragon’

Eidôlios ‘Phantasmal’, ‘Ghostly’

Eileithyia ‘Nurse of Childbirth’, ‘Goddess of Midwives’

Einalian ‘Of the Sea’

Einodia Thygater Demetros ‘Daughter of Demeter, who is of the Road’

Ekklesia ‘Of the Assembly’

Ekdotis ‘Bestower’

Elaphêbolos ‘Deer-huntress’, ‘Shooter of Deer’

Elateira ‘Driver’, ‘Charioteer’

Ellophonos ‘Fawn-slayer’

Epaine ‘Awe-Inspiring’, ‘Glorious’, ‘Sublime’

Empousa / Empusa [Of unknown meaning, related to the monster Empusa and the idea of phantoms and specters]

Empylios ‘At the Gate’

Empyrios ‘Empyrean’

Enodia ‘Of the crossroads’, ‘Of the Roads’, ‘Of the Path’

Ephodia ‘Traveling Expenses’, ‘Provisions for the Road’, ‘Traveling Supplies’, ‘Resources’

Ephoros ‘Guardian’ ‘Overseer’

Epigeioi ‘of the Earth’

Epiphanestate Thea ‘the Most Manifest Goddess’

Epipurgidia ‘on the Tower’

Episkopos ‘Guardian’, ‘One who Watches Over’, ‘Overseer’

Epiteichea ‘The Stronghold’, ‘Fort’

Epi-tymbidia ‘Sepulchral’

Eranne ‘Lovely’

Erannos ‘Lovely’

Ergatis ‘Energizer’

Êrigeneia ‘Daughter of morning’, ‘Early-born’

Erôtotokeia / Erototokos ‘Bearer of love’, ‘Producing Love’, ‘Who Bore Love’

Eukoline ‘Good Tempered’

Eupatepeia ‘Noble-born’

Eurippa ‘Horse-finder’

Geneteira ‘Mother’

Genetyllis ‘Birth-Helper’, ‘Goddess of Childbirth’, ‘Midwife’

Gigaessa ‘Giant’

Gorgo ‘The Grim’, ‘The Gorgon’

Hecatoncheires ‘Hundred-handed’

Hegemonen ‘Guide’

Hêgemoye ‘Queen’

Helike ‘Revolving’

Hersechthonia ‘Speaking From Below’

Hexacheira ‘Of Six Ways’, ‘Of Six Hands’

Hiera ‘Holy One’

Hieros Pyr ‘Holy Fire’

Hipparete ‘Horse-Speaker’

Hippokyon ‘Mare Bitch’, ‘Horse Dog’

Hippoprosopos ‘Horse-Faced’

Hypolampteira [Of Unknown Meaning – possibly related to light or brightness]

Iocheaira / Iokheaira ‘Arrow-shooter’, ‘One who Shoots Arrows’

Indalimos ‘Beautiful’

Ippokyôn ‘Mare-Dog’, half dog/ half horse

Ippoprosôpos ‘Horse-faced’

Kalkaea ‘Wearer of High Boots’

Kalligeneia ‘Bearing Beautiful Offspring’

Kalliste ‘Fairest’

Kapetoktypos ‘Tomb-disturber’, ‘Causing the Noise of Lamentation’

Kardiodaitos ‘Heart-Eater’, ‘Feasting on Men’s Hearts’

Kareia ‘of Karia’, ‘Kraus’

Karko ‘Lamia’, ‘Child-Eating’, ‘Nocturnal Spirit’

Katachthonia ‘Subterranean’

Katakampsypsaychenos ‘Bender of proud necks’

Kelkaia [Of Unknown Meaning]

Keratôpis ‘Horned-faced’, ‘Horned Looking’

Keroeis ‘Horned’

Kthonia ‘Of the Underworld’, ’Of the Earth’

Kleidouchos / Kleidoukhos ‘Key-holder’, ‘Key-keeper’

Klôthaiê ‘Spinner of fate’

Kore ‘Maiden’

Kourotrophos ‘Child’s Nurse’, ‘Nurse of Youths’

Krataios / Kratais ‘Powerful’, ‘Dominator’, ‘Of the Rocks’

Krokopeplos ‘Saffron-Cloaked’

Kunolygmatos ‘Doglike Howler’, ‘Who howls doglike’

Kydimos ‘Glorious’

Kynegetis ‘Leader of Dogs’

Kynokephalos ‘Dog-Headed’

Kynolygmate ‘Howling Like a Dog’, ‘Who Howls Dog-like’

Kyôn ‘Bitch’, ‘Dog’

Kyôn Melaina ‘Black Bitch’, ‘Black Dog’

Kyria ‘The Powerful’, ‘The Supreme’

Laginitis ‘Of Lagina’

Lampadephoros ‘Lamp-bearer’, ���Torch-bearer’, ‘Who Warns of Nighttime Attack’

Lampadios ‘Lamp-bearer’, ‘Torch-bearer’

Leaina ‘The Lioness’

Leontoukhos ‘Holding a Lion’

Leukophryne ‘White-Browed’, ‘Of the White-Browed Hill’

Limenitis ‘Harbor Goddess’

Limenitikos ‘Of the Harbor’, ‘Harbor Goddess’

Limenoskopos ‘Of the Threshold’, ‘Watcher of Havens’, ‘On the Harbor’, ‘Watching the Harbor’

Liparokredemnos ‘Of the Bright Headband’, ‘Bright-Coiffed’

Liparoplokamos ‘Brilliant-Braided’

Lochias ‘Protector of birth’, ‘Goddess of Childbearing’

Lykaina ‘She-wolf’

Lyko ‘She-wolf’, ‘Wolf-formed’

Maera ‘Shining’

Mageus ‘One who Kneads’ [Possibly related to Magi]

Makairapos ‘Blessed-one’

Medeousa / Medusa ‘Protector’, ‘Guard’, ‘Gorgon’

Meisopomenos ‘Laborer of the Moon’

Meisoponeros ‘Vice-Hating’

Megiste ‘Greatest’

Melaine ‘Black’

Melaneimôn ‘Black-clad’, ‘Wearing Black’

Melinoe ‘Soothing One’

Mene ‘Moon’

Moira ‘A Share’, ‘Fate’

Monogenes ‘Only Child’

Monoprosopos ‘With One Face’

Mormo ‘She-Monster’

Munychia [Of Unknown Meaning]

Nekuia / Nekyia ‘Goddess of death’, ‘Mistress of corpses’

Nerteria ‘Infernal’, ‘Subterranean’, ‘Nether One’

Nerterios ‘Infernal’, ‘Subterranean’, Nether One’

Nerteron Prytanin ‘Mistress of the Dead’

Noctiluca ‘Light of the Night’, ‘Night Shiner’

Noeros ‘Intellective’

Nomaios ‘Pastoral’

Nychia / Nykhia ‘Nocturnal’ ‘Nocturnal-One’ “Goddess of Night’

Nyktairodyteira ‘Night Riser and Setter’, ‘She that Rises and Sets by Night’

Nykteria ‘Of the Night’

Nykti ‘Of the Night’

Nyktiboos ‘Night-Shouter’, ‘Night-Crier’

Nyktipolos ‘Night-Wandering’

Nyktophaneia ‘Night-shining’

Nymphen ‘Bride’

Nyssa ‘Goader’, “Goal’, ‘Beginning’, ‘Turning Post’, ‘Ambition’

Oistrophaneia ‘Manifester of Madness’

Oistroplaneia ‘Spreader of Madness’, ‘Causing the Wanderings of Madness’

Oksyboê ‘Shrill-screamer’, ‘Shrieker’

Oletis ‘Destroyer’

Opaon ‘Follower’

Opheôplokamos ‘Coiled with Snakes’, ‘With Snaky Curls’

Oriplanos ‘Mountain-roamer’, ‘Mountain-Wandering’

Oroboros ‘Tail-Eating’

Ourania ‘Celestial’, ‘Heavenly’

Ouresiphoites ‘Wanderer in the Mountains’

Oxythymia ‘Gallows’, ‘Quick to Anger’

Paggennêteira ‘Mother of All’

Paiônios ‘Healer’

Pammêtôr ‘Mother of All’

Pandamateira ‘All-tamer’, ‘All-powerful’, “All Subduer’, ‘Master of all’

Pandina [Of Unknown Meaning – Possibly related to ‘whirling’ or ‘rotating’]

Pandôteira ‘All-giver’, ‘One who gives everything’, ‘Bestower of Everything’, Bounteous’

Pangaios ‘World-wide’

Panopaia ‘All-seeing’, ‘One who sees everything’, ‘Panorama’

Panta Ephepousa [Of Unknown Meaning]

Pantos Kosmou Kleidokhos ‘Keeper of the Keys of the Cosmos’

Pantrephô / Pantrophos ‘All-nurturing’, ‘All-sustaining’, ‘who feeds all’

Parthenos ‘Virgin’

Pasikrateia ‘Universal Queen’, ‘All-powerful’, ‘who dominates all’

Pasimedeonsa ‘All-guarding’, ‘All-protecting’

Pasimedousa ‘Ruling Over All’

[bleedingrose7098]

¤ His Silver Kitty ~ Chapter 1 ¤

(READ THE PROLOGUE FIRST)

(Summary ~ Somehow she reminded him of a rose. She was so delicate and fragile. Her small ears were always pressed down against her silver hair. Someone once told him that roses took a while to bloom but the end result was always worth it. And Taehyung was determined to make this one blossom into the beautiful flower he knew she could be.)

Chapter Title ~ I Believe

Language ~ English

Song reference ~ I Believe By Younha

☆ Taehyung's Point of view ☆

"You idiot! You brought her with you?!" Minho shouted. He looked back and forth between me and (Y/n) repeatedly then back to the road. I sighed and scratched the back of my head sheepishly.

"I didn't want to leave her alone." I reasoned, looking back at (Y/n) who huddled herself into a small ball on the backseats of Minho's car.

The window was open on her side and one of her hands were hanging out of it to feel the rain. She gazed out of the window blankly.

"She attempted to commit suicide Taehyung! You don't know that she won't do it again!" He said to me. I rolled my eyes a nudged him.

"Don't be so loud. She might hear you." I said to him. He laughed at me. He laughed hard.

"You really are an idiot. She's a hybrid Taehyung! She would be able to hear you breathing even when you try to hold your breath." He laughed.

"And you want to actually take care of her? You know nothing about hybrids!" He continued.

I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

"No! I don't know the first thing about hybrids but i can damn well try!" I yelled out in frustration. Minho hit his lip then sighed.

"Fine. Fine. Okay. First you'll need to officially register her as your hybrid. I'll take you to the agency." He agreed. I smiled brightly at him, showing him my famous boxy smile.

"Thank you hyung. I really appreciate it." I thanked. He rolled his eyes and continued driving.

I took my phone out of my pocket and pressed the home button to check my notifications.

Jin Hyung 33 Missed calls and 42 Missed messages

Jungkook 12 Missed messages

Jimin 8 Missed calls

Namjoon 1 Missed message and 1 Missed call

I laughed and turned off my phone once again and shoved it into my pocket. Unbelievable.

They can't just act like they care when they realise they need me. It dosen't work like that.

☆ (Y/n)'s Point of view ☆

We were in Minho's car driving to the agency. Minho was apart of the boygroup Shinee. I usually watched him on tv when my old owner payed the electricity bill.

I only realised Taehyung was famous too when he was rushing me towards the bus stop where Minho's car was waiting and billions of girls were screaming, "Taehyung oppa!" And, "V oppa!"

Only then i realised what he was dragging me into.

The car was now silent. We drove through the streets with the radio on, playing quietly as the rain now was heavier and louder then the noices coming from the speakers.

The agency of hybrid adoption was a place I've been to many times. It was a quick process of signing a single form which they then photocopied and faxed to the main office. After this was done you could take the hybrid home after purchasing an earring set or a collar. I've always gotten collars because my owners could never afford to pierce my ears since it cost alot more for hybrids.

The car finally pulled up the the agency. There was writing at the front that i was never able to read since i haven't been taught to read or write. The engine stopped after Minho took his car key out of the slot. Taehyung opened his door and walked over to my door to open it for me.

I looked up at him blankly as he held out his hand for me to grab. I put my hand in his and let him pull me up from my seat. He closed the car door after i got out then put his arm around my neck and hung it loosely. He smiled at me comfortingly as he led me inside. He looked up at the security guard who's face i knew all too well and started to speak.

"I would like to sign a fo--"

"God you're back here again?! How much times are you going to get adopted?" The man laughed.

"Hey Seoho! The silver head's back! You owe me some money!" The man called out to the open door that was at the back of the room. Taehyung eyebrows furrowed in anger

"Excuse me?! You were betting on her not having an owner again?! That is so sick!" Taehyung growled. He pushed past the guard and marched over to the front desk with my wrist tightly clutched in his hand. The guard snickered as i walked past him. My face has no emotion as i followed Taehyung's lead. Minho wait inside his car whilst playing a game in his phone to cure his boredem.

"I need to sign an adoption form please." Taehyung said the the old woman at the desk. Without looking up, she grabbed a form and slid it over to Taehyung and chucked a pen to him. He caught it before it rolled off of the table with a glare on his face. He muttered an annoyed thanks before taking the papers to the seating area.

He sat down first then patted the space next to him for me to sit down also. I crawled onto the couch and sat on it with my knees to me chest and feet off of the floor. Taehyung noticed my weird habit but didn't say anyting about it. He saw that I've done this before in the car and thought that maybe it felt more comfortable for my tail this way.

Then he started to fill out the form with a pen in his hand.

"What's you full name?" He asked.

"Sakurai (Y/n)." I whispered.

"Sakurai? That sounds like a Japanese family name?" Taehyung noticed. I nodded and kept quiet. He sighed but didn't continue to pry.

"Date of birth?" He asked.

"1998. May."

"May what?" He questioned. I shrugged my shoulders and closed my eyes, resting them against my knees.

"How many times have you been adopted?" He asked. This time he listened closely, he was obviously curious about this one.

"5." I said simply. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't comment on it. Even though i know he wanted to.

"Okay the rest is for me to fill out." He said as he started to write in the boxes. I nodded and waited silently for him to finish so we could leave. This place made me feel anxious. I guess it showed by the way my foot kept tapping impatienly on the sofa, shaking my whole body it the process.

"HOLY SHIT! IT'S TRUE! THE SILVER HEAD IS BACK!" A guard shouted. I tucked my head further into my knees and tried to block at out the noise. The guard walked towards me and picked up some of my hair and started twirling it between his fingers.

"What did you do this time, Silver?" He asked with a smirk. I ignored him, trying to close my eyes and wish for everything to dissapear.

Then he tugged on my hair hard causing me to sqeak. Taehyung looked up from the paper and furrowed his brows in confusion. That was untill he saw the man holding my hair in a tight grip. His look went from confusion to anger.

"Answer me, Silver." The guard said through gritted teeth. Taehyung stood up suddenly then walked towards the guard. He pushed him backwards with force, making the man stumble backwards amd let go of my hair. My breath hitched. I watched as Taehyung kept pushing the man backwards, taking out his anger on him.

No. This isn't what i wanted. I hated humans. But i hated violence more.

"Stop." I whispered as tears clouded my vision. Taehyung couldn't hear my quiet voice over his yelling.

"What gives you the right to touch her?!" He growled. The volume of his voice making me press my ears further into my hair then they already were.

"Please." I whispered again. Nobody payed any mind to me. After all, i was just a hybrid. Me being a crying hybrid didn't make any difference to them.

My breathing got heavier and heavier as i noticed it started to get hard for me to breathe. I gasped in for air but i felt as if nothing was being inhaled.

A panic attack? Not now. I can't deal with passing out now. I can't do this again here.

"You were clearly bothering her! Right, (Y/n)?!" Taehyung yelled, whipping his head back to me to listen for an answer. His face dropped, seeing me in tears sliding down to the floor, clawing at my chest in hopes to give me some air.

Taehyung was by my side in a second. He kneeled to the floor and took my face into his hands. He made me look him in the eyes. That was when i noticed his sparking blue contacts and how they complimented him so well.

This wasn't the time to be admiring him.

"Breathe." He said simply. He rubbed my cheeks and my tears away in the process. He breathed in slowly to demonstrate to me and asked me to copy. I did as he asked and started breathing in. Air filled my lungs slowly as i started to get back to the normal pace of breathing.

I was shocked. He stopped my panic attack. That has never happened to me before. I've always had one then passed out from lack of oxygen. One of the many things wrong with me which made my owners think twice before purchasing me. The only reason they have was because i was a rare breed of cat hybrids. The Siberian cat. Also known as the silver haired beauties. At least that was what i was told by my mother before i was sold to a buyer back in Tokyo.

Taehyung then brought me to his chest and hugged me.

"I gave you a panic attack... I'm sorry." He mumbled into my hair. I breathed in his scent over and over again, almost smiling as i smelt the smell of home. My eyes were closed as i started to relax into his hold. I could feel myself difting off in a sleep.

"I'll do better from now on. I promise. I'll protect you..."

I believe you...

(Author-Nim ~ Hey Mochies! Did you enjoy?! Please comment what you thought! I read every comment! Ask some questions if you'd like! Don't be a shy reader! ILY Mochies!)

(Read Chapter 2 Next on my profile)

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} All They Were And Something More

Fandom:  The Adventure Zone:  Commitment Rating:  G Warnings:  ABSOLUTELY NONE, this fic is nothing but fluff!!! Word Count:  1,368

Here on AO3.

For @halleluland​. The promised movie night fic. The pure fluff I said would come sooner or later.

Technically takes place in the universe of That Old Sweet Feeling, but can be read on its own - you just won’t understand some, um, inside jokes.

Title from The Beautiful Not Yet by Carrie Newcomber.

Summary:    Every Thursday night, the Wonder Triplets plus Mary get together for a movie night. It goes the same way every time.

__________________

The first one to movie night was always Irene, of course, whether she was hosting or not. She had keys to all their apartments, so she’d walk on in, immediately vacuum the living room, and start setting out any snacks she’d brought. Nadiya and Mary Sage would get there next, bearing hot chocolate fixings and the fluffiest blankets they owned. The last to arrive was always Remy, who would appear at the door clutching the chosen DVD and a sheepish grin.

They would spend half an hour squabbling over places on the couches and/or chairs, and inevitably end up all squashed together on one couch, Mary Sage half in Nadiya’s lap, Remy perched on an arm because he couldn’t sit still, and Irene with her legs cross-legged under her in a way that seemed to take up way too much space for someone as small as she was. Nadiya would criticize any scientific impossibility, Mary Sage would loudly complain about the lack of explosions, and Remy would cry at the sad bits. It would end with them saying they should head home until they all fell asleep one by one, using the others for armrests and pillows and blankets. The next morning, Irene would make blueberry pancakes and Nadiya would make the coffee and Mary Sage would scramble the eggs and Remy would wash the dishes afterwards.

It was a routine Nadiya loved beyond reason or logic, and she hoped it would continue every Thursday night from now until eternity.

“Nadiya, here’s yours,” Remy said, handing Nadiya her mug of hot chocolate with marshmallow fluff and caramel drizzled on top. “Irene.” Irene liked hers with chocolate syrup and peppermint. “Here, Mary –” Hers was topped with what looked like half a can of whipped cream. Remy finally settled down on the couch, squeezed in between Mary Sage and Nadiya. His cup was overflowing with mini marshmallows. “Okay, captions on? Sliders stacked? Sewer granola within easy reach?”

“That was one time, Remy, we were on the run, and they were Power Bars, not granola bars –”

“Yep, we’re all good!” Remy said cheerily, derailing Nadiya’s rant before it could go too far. Irene, always in charge of the controller, started the movie.

“Is there kissing in this one?” Mary Sage asked. “I don’t like kissing.”

“Liar,” Nadiya said.

Mary Sage scowled. She had whipped cream on her nose already. “In movies!”

“Yeah, there’s kissing, but it’s not a kissing movie,” Remy said, already bounced up to the back of the couch and perched there with his legs dangling towards the cushions. “I knew better than to bring one after Titanic.” Nadiya remembered that movie night clearly – it had resulted in all four of them agreeing on how good-looking Kate Winslet was and disagreeing, loudly, on whether there really had been room on the door for Jack. (Kardala made an appearance to decisively say that there was absolutely not. They tried to shout her down, but shouting down a thunder goddess was an exercise in futility.)

“Ugh, fine,” Mary Sage said. “I get to pick next week, though.”

“You always pick Die Hard ,” Remy protested. “Or a Veggie Tales movie.”

“Not always,” Mary Sage said. “One time I picked Die Hard 2.  At least I don’t pick Flubber every time.”

“Wasn’t every time. It was just the first five,” Remy said.

“We still haven’t gotten around to watching my favorite movie,” Nadiya put in.

“The Fly is horror, Nad!” Remy said, nudging her with one Spongebob-socked foot. “No horror except for on Halloween. That’s my rule.”

“It’s barely horror! It’s a classic!” Nadiya said. “Plus, Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis, come on –”

“Three things,” Irene said in her small voice. “One, we also haven’t watched The Royal Tenebaums,  which is my favorite movie, if you’ll remember. I haven’t been able to find a copy on DVD. Second, we’re missing the intro.” (“As if we ever don’t,” Nadiya mumbled.) “And third,” Irene continued, standing up from the couch and nearly doubling in size, her voice dropping an octave and a half, “I want popcorn,” Kardala finished. “Did anyone bring any?”

“We have some in the cabinets,” Nadiya said. “The ones above the microwave.”

Kardala headed into the kitchen. They heard the cabinets open and close, the popping of popcorn, and twelve minutes later, Kardala returned with what appeared to be five bags of popcorn, all poured into the biggest mixing bowl Nadiya and Mary Sage owned.

“Thank you, Nadiya Jones!” Kardala said loudly. She sat down on the couch, effectively taking up ninety percent of the cushion space and nearly toppling Remy, who steadied his hot chocolate and himself with a yelp.

“What, you think we’re gonna host movie night and not have popcorn for you?” Mary Sage said with a grin, and Kardala smiled back and held up her bowl so Mary Sage could set her mug on the coffee table and fling herself across both Nadiya’s and Kardala’s laps. Kardala, unperturbed, set her bowl back down on Mary Sage’s stomach.

“They’re as sacred to movie night as sliders and hot chocolate,” Remy said. “Maybe more so.”

“But not as sacred as the sewer granola?” Mary Sage said slyly.

“For the LAST TIME, MARY –” Nadiya started, even as Mary Sage burst into laughter. Nadiya couldn’t help laughing along with her. Mary Sage just had that kind of laugh.

“It’s good granola,” Kardala said, though it was unclear whether she was defending Nadiya or Irene. “Irene’s mothers taught her the recipe.”

“No thanks, Irene’s kind has unshelled pistachios in it,” Nadiya said. “Ick.”

“No, that’s her pgorp,” Kardala said, eating a handful of popcorn that could easily have comprised an entire bag. “Her granola is much better. It has chocolate chips. The mini kind.” Suddenly, Kardala got a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Sometimes Irene eats it for breakfast.”

“Hell yeah, chocolate for breakfast!” Remy said. He high fived Mary Sage in Kardala’s place, since Kardala’s hands were full of popcorn.

Nadiya finished her hot chocolate, set the mug down, and pulled one of the fluffy blankets up and wrapped it around her shoulders. Mary Sage promptly sat up, nearly knocking the popcorn bowl from Kardala’s hands in the process, positioned herself squarely in Nadiya’s lap, and wrapped herself in both the blanket and her girlfriend’s arms. “No blanket without me,” she mumbled, rubbing the soft edge across her mouth.

“You’re a holy terror,” Nadiya said, half-squished under a rather heavy double armful of Mary Sage. “I’m dating a holy terror. A wild child. An enfant terrible , if you will.”

“Mmhmm,” Mary Sage agreed, making herself comfortable on top of Nadiya. “Comfy girlfriend.”

Remy made a gagging noise from above them. “PDA alert, girlfriends too cute, call the cute lesbian cops!”

“There are no cute lesbian cops,” Mary Sage responded immediately. “Only cute lesbian communists.”

“Are you a communist?” Remy asked curiously.

“Probably,” Mary Sage said. “Statistically speaking.” Then, before he or Nadiya could incredulously question her about what statistics, exactly, she was referring to, she added, “Also, if cute lesbians aren’t allowed, Irene’s gotta leave, so tough beans.”

Kardala beamed. “Irene says to thank you for the compliment,” she says.

“She’s welcome,” Mary Sage said. “Kardala can stay, though.”

“Am I not cute?” Kardala asked.

Mary Sage turned and squinted at her, then leaned back and tilted her head. Kardala was wearing Irene’s favorite Hello Kitty pajamas, and, as always, looked vaguely like she’d just stuck her finger in an electrical socket. “Sure,” Mary Sage said finally. “But are you a lesbian?”

“Probably,” Kardala said agreeably, and went back to her popcorn.

Predictable , Nadiya thought, rubbing her hand through Mary Sage’s curly hair. Routine, she thought as the kissing scene came up on the screen and Mary Sage made retching noises and Remy kicked her and Kardala threatened to throw them both across the room. Ordinary, she thought as Remy dozed off like a cat spread over the top of the couch, and Kardala shrunk back into Irene as her eyes started to droop, and Mary Sage began snoring loudly from Nadiya’s lap, where her legs had fallen asleep.

Nadiya couldn’t remember ever being happier.

[avengers-nextgen]

Prometheus XIV

Piper’s plan was well received by the others who were eager to settle down and spend time together.

James and Fox has come back from their trip and it was settled. Fox wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon. She was joining the agent force for one particular reason. No other kid-as long as she could help it- was going to be left uncared for in an abusive household.

Her parents hadn’t approved of the job offer. They detested it. They mocked it. They hated it. They disowned her. And Fox was okay with all of it. She no longer had an obligation to them. For someone who enjoyed freedom she’d been chained all of her life without knowing it, and the shackles were finally off.

Meanwhile, Penny spent all of her time in the infirmary reading away to the best of her ability. Chloe’s journal was exceptional. There wasn’t a page that didn’t have a part of her on it. Penny was finally getting an understanding of Arthur’s sister and things began to make sense. There were reasons behind her actions, habits, and comforts.

Her heart broke a little bit for the other girl, and she wanted to be friends with Chloe now more than ever before. Upon her release from the infirmary, Penny tracked down the eldest twin. Chloe was dancing away to broadway music while hanging up her clothes. In another life Penny bet she’d have been an exceptional ballroom dancer. From the looks of it she’d dabbled a little in ballet.

“Hey, Chloe?” Penny knocked on the door frame drawing the other girl’s attention. “Uhm, here. I finished. Sorry it took so long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chloe stammered quickly, “thanks.”

Penny passed the journal over and before Chloe could move away Penny hugged her tightly. She didn’t say anything because there wasn’t anything to say. Then, as quickly as she’d come-she left. Heading back into the living room where the smell of cooking food wafted from the kitchen.

Bianca and Alex sat playing chess as they had been the entire day. They’d recently learned to play and there was no stopping them from testing out their skills. Bianca proved to be adept at the game. Her brain picked out patterns, planned moves in advance, and even predicted her opponent’s moves with ease. Alex simply enjoyed the company and lost with grace.

“It says it’s gonna rain!” Enzo cheered, having been watching the news with Scout. “Can we jump in the puddles after dinner?”

“Maybe,” Steve replied, “but that depends on how dirty you plan on getting.”

“It’ll be fine,” Nathaniel assured him.

“Says the kid who climbed into a pig pen on his field trip in third grade,” Clint snorted.

“You’re supposed to help me dad,” Nathaniel acted wounded, “whose side are you on?”

“Stop trying to steal food!” Wanda laughed, tackling Thalia in a hug and forcing her from the kitchen, “no taste testing.”

“What if it’s poisoned? What about disease?”

“No disease and no poison.” Wanda snickered. “Siyanda, watch her.”

Siyanda only rolled her eyes but Thalia good naturedly left the kitchen alone. In truth Orion couldn’t blame her-everything smelled amazing. His stomach wouldn’t shut up. Every time it growled Scout would slap him in the gut.

“What is the purpose of this?” Orion asked after the tenth time.

“It’s amusing,” Scout smiled thinly.

“Ha ha.” Orion replied sarcastically. “Perhaps you should care about the fact that your boyfriend is starving!”

“You’re not going to die!” Scout rolled his eyes running a hand through Orion’s green hair. “You’re not allowed to. It’s against my rules.”

“Scout help set the table!” Wanda called from the open kitchen door.

“Gotta blast,” Scout sighed, getting up and rushing off to help his mother. Orion followed closely behind eager to help. The two boys ended up racing to see who could finish their chore first.

“I win!” Scout bragged, taking his seat with exaggerated posture.

“I’m just happy to eat,” Orion remarked, but despite being a sore loser he pressed a kiss to Scout’s cheek.

“PDA at the table? Not on my watch,” Piper scoffed, but her eyes glinted with humor.

Slowly everyone piled into the dining area and took up their seats. The table was laden to the breaking point with food and silverware. Others arrived slowly to fill in the open seats like Penny’s parents, Stephen, the entire Space family (as Orion called it), and even the Asgardians -both the ones Thalia had found-along with her family.

The noise was loud but it was pleasant. Everyone smiled and laughed and seemed to be relaxed. Nathaniel launched grapes at Piper who was surprisingly good at catching them in her mouth while Enzo provided commentary.

“And she catches another! It’s a seven to ten ratio folks!” Enzo spoke into the spoon he was supposed to use for mashed potatoes.

“Peter, I hate dabbing,” MJ sighed, watching her fiancé from the corner of her eye.

“But it’s fun,” Orion smirked copying Peter’s gesture.

Scout’s eyes narrowed in distaste, “absolutely not.”

“What’s wrong with this?” Penny asked, doing as the boys had. Chloe, Scout, and MJ all groaned in mild irritation. They despised pointless fads.

“Rock- paper-scissors-shoot!” James and Alex fought over who got the last brownie. Unfortunately James was the victor.

“Bummer,” Arthur laughed, nudging Alex good naturedly with his elbow.

James grinned like a Cheshire Cat and popped the whole thing into his mouth at once.

“I hope you choke,” Fox mumbled and the remark nearly made James choke —from laughing.

“Thalia slow down you’ll die!” Bianca warned.

“I won’t die,” Thalia frowned but she looked to Siyanda for reassurance anyways, “right?”

“You’re fine, babe.” Siyanda laughed. “Just enjoy the taste of the food too. No need to be a garbage disposal-there’s enough for everyone.”

“You sound like a mom,” Piper teased.

“Well I do have to baby sit my father sometimes.” Siyanda smirked.

“OHHHH!” Nathaniel nearly fell off of his chair, “the shade! Holy shit.”

The table erupted into laughter but it died as quickly as it came due to a new appearance. The first to react was Enzo.

The boy bolted from his seat in a heartbeat and raced towards the dark suited man, “Father!”

Loki barely had time to react before his son latched onto him like a monkey, “Hello Enzo.”

“I’ve missed you. Where have you been? There’s so much to tell you!” Enzo stammered, his brain going too fast for him to effectively express his thoughts. He looked on the verge of laughing, crying, and smiling all at the same time.

“I have lots to say too,” Loki smiled thinly, running a gentle hand through Enzo’s hair.

“Come on. There’s plenty of room!” Enzo grabbed Loki’s hand and dragged the god towards the table. Every seat was full.

“Ah, I see it’s full.” Loki noted. “That’s alright.”

“You can have my seat.” Enzo promised.

“To be quite fair, no one was expecting your arrival.” Thor remarked calmly.

“I was invited,” Loki assured.

“By whom?”

“Your daughter.”

All eyes turned to Thalia who was now chewing rather unenthused. “It’s a family affair. I thought-well he’s...he’s family.”

“Did you ask permission?” Thor questioned, glancing to Tony.

“N-no.” Thalia spoke softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why ask permission if family is invited?” Sif arched a brow, “it makes perfect sense to me. Not to mention he did fight to save Asgard from your deranged sister.”

“Those are events of the past,” Thor sighed.

“If I’m not welcome I will leave.” Loki glowered. “But I came with the intentions of seeing my children.”

“Which you’ve done.” Thor pointed out.

“I have more than a son you imbecile.” Loki glared.

“She doesn’t wish to see you,” Thor stated, “from what I’ve gathered.”

Silence settled in the room except for a loud pop and the tinkling of glass. Everyone’s eyes turned from Thalia to Sage who sat crammed in the corner and who hadn’t spoken a word since the meal began. She held fragments of her empty-and now shattered-glass. Blood slid in rivulets between her fingers as her eyes attempted to burn holes into the table.

The shattered glass acted as a symbol of retreat. The others quickly fled the scene knowing very well when family matters were meant to be private.

“Let her speak for herself, brother.” Loki glanced at Sage but she didn’t meet his gaze.

“I don’t want to talk. I have nothing to say.”

“Obviously that’s untrue,” Loki replied.

“Why do you care?”

“I’m your father,” Loki frowned, “why wouldn’t I care?”

“You stopped caring a long time ago.” Sage huffed. “The moment you left me in that fucking cell to rot!”

“It was for your own good I told you that.”

“If you really knew me at all you’d have known that a rejection wasn’t what I needed. I needed an actual father. Not some guy pretending to be one.” Enzo glanced between his sister and father unsure of how to respond. He could feel the tension in the air, and it scared him.

“Sage, I have always cared. I tried to protect you and I couldn’t. That kills me every day.” Loki’s voice cracked ever so slightly. “I’d rather have died than had your mother perish and leave you alone.”

“You lie.” Thor snorted. “You’re a self preservationist.”

“And you’re not?” Loki scoffed, “let us not forget that you killed an innocent woman and attacked a child for fear of your reign!”

“It was nothing of the sort.”

“Then what was it?” Thalia asked. She held eye contact with her father and didn’t dare break it. “How can you excuse murder? How are you different than your brother? One person is still murder. Just as six hundred is.”

“I was trying to protect the people.” Thor sighed, “I was afraid that you-Sage- would be used as a tool. That you would become a weapon for Loki’s personal schemes. When I learned that you had already been born and trained -albeit slightly- I grew angry. I grew frustrated and afraid. Your father mentioned nothing about you until years had passed. I only had suspicion to go off of. A child shouldn’t be a secret needing to be kept hidden.”

“That excuses nothing.” Sage snarled.

“Perhaps, but it’s my perspective.” Thor shrugged. “I learned, just as he learned.”

“Because you didn’t kill Enzo? Because Loki figured out how to actually raise a child? I’m glad I was everyone’s fucking test run.” Sage swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She couldn’t even look at Enzo.

“None of us are perfect,” Loki sighed, “and you can’t condemn me brother when you’ve done equal harm to your own daughter.”

“Such as?” Thor arched a brow. “I provided for her and I raised her.”

“But I didn’t know my mom,” Thalia’s eyebrows drew together and her moth pressed into a thin line, “why would you do that to me?”

“I was afraid that my brother would retaliate for what I’d done.” Thor explained.

“Did you ever think how I’d feel about it? What about my mom?” Thalia gestured to Sif who remained quiet. She simply watched with the gaze of a general who was studying a battle at hand.

“No. I was brash.” Thor admitted. “And wrong.”

“Why would I ever inflict the pain on you that you inflicted on me?” Loki frowned. “What satisfaction would I get out of ruining an innocent child’s life and a friend’s?”

“Perhaps I didn’t give you enough credit. You’ve changed more than I assumed,” Thor admitted. “As for you Sif...I am deeply sorry.”

“If you expect any form of forgiveness you would be sorely mistaken. Time is not something to be made up. You don’t even begin to comprehend the amount of loss you put me through.” Sif remained poised but her eyes were alight with rage.

“I don’t expect anything,” Thor admitted, folding his hands on the table, “your right to be angry isn’t something I’ll smother.”

“This is pointless,” Sage shook her head. “What does accepting responsibility do? It changes nothing for anyone!”

“Acknowledging your wrong doings doesn’t make them right, but it shows recognition from the person at fault.” Loki tilted his head, studying the scene. “For once my brother’s taken responsibility.”

“Now that everything’s on the table, is there anyway to fix it?” Thalia asked hopefully, taking a moment to study everyone. “Please? There’s too much pain in our history. If we can’t right ourselves how can we ever restore our kingdom? Our people...they need us. Even those who’ve done wrong have shaped us.”

“Some of us find it hard to love something we’ve never been a part of.” Sage glanced at her cousin and the two seemed to come to a mutual understanding. Sage stood to leave and only paused to give Thalia a small squeeze on the shoulder. She said nothing more as she headed down the hall cradling her injured hand.

[convxction]

a pile of mini headcanons 

chrom likes to braid hairs. he is used to braiding hairs because of his sisters. albeit, not that good at it but with time, he tends to put more effort in doing them.

if you have short hair, he will try to figure something else to do. a lot of flower crowns or just sticking a flower on the side of your hair.

chrom will be against lucina cutting her hair (the current lucina) because she does not have to be a copy of him, but to be herself. at one point, current lucina would want to cut her hair to be just like chrom which would trigger unhappy thoughts about him not wanting to be like his father so lucina should just be herself not someone else.

chrom would make a space in his study room for his children to sit in, in case his wife was busy with whatever matter in her hands. the space would have some items from his travels, chonsin, plegia ferox even from the mila shrine so they kids would have an idea of these places that they yet able to visit. (along with some stories like he has personally written in his spare time about his journey in a fun way for them to read.)

on that note, chrom is going to start writing down his journey the past 3, 4 years. it is part to keep a history of what happened and the other aspect is to be a place to jot down his mistakes and learn from them.

in the anniversary of his sister’s death, chrom remain in the garden for a couple of hours, checking on every plant in there before he spends some time in the royal cemetery to report back to emmeryn what happened during this year.

in case of his mother’s birthday or mother’s day, he would visit his mother (and emmeryn on mother’s day) and rant a little bit to her. he rather be alone in these trips because he often cries and he does not want to shy off from his tears if someone was with him aka he wants to cry he does not want to be stopped.

despite how chrom seems ‘not attentive enough to what frederick does for him’ it is untrue. it bothers chrom a lot that he does not know frederick like frederick knows about him. he knows that frederick was pretty much with him since he was a baby but it is not an excuse and he knows it. therefore whenever frederick birthday comes, chrom will spend a lot of time trying to weight which item or gift is suitable and ends it with a spar session with frederick and the two would sit down to talk for hours before going back to their lives.

chrom would keep the same hair length even after becoming the exalt (holy king) because why not. 

in modern verse, chrom would definitely get a dog (the type is yet to be settled on.) but first, he would get a cat first. he is used to them after handling his sister’s calico cat and he likes how they are small and stealthy (and cute.)

[my-little-yellowbird]

Eleven Questions Meme

Sorry that it seemed I was ignoring these. I was tagged by @elasticmonk, @like-an-officer-and-a-sergeant and @thatginchygal to answer their questions.  Be grateful for the “Keep Reading” thing. 

@elasticmonk asked:

1. What’s your favorite color? Blue and Yellow. I pick two. Sue me.

2. What’s your top place to travel to?  Of the places I go, I think I’d say the beach house my whole family gathers at each summer.

3. What’s your favorite mode of transportation? Train. 

4. What’s your favorite candy? M&Ms. I mean, I like to eat them and all, but three M&Ms worked miracles with my kids.

5. What’s something that holds a lot of memories and sentimental value to you? A tattered old copy of a book on my nightstand that belonged to my mother called Tregaron’s Daughter.  I found a copy online for my sister, too, so it makes me think of them both when i see it.

6. What’s your favorite game and why? We play a card game every year at the beach called PIG. My kids have to explain the rles to me every summer, but it’s so much fun.

7. What’s been your worst hair cut/style? Way back when, I had a shag haircut. In my defense, I was not the only little girl in my kindergarten class to look like David Cassidy.

8. What’s your family like? I’d say amazing, but I think you mean something else. I’m married with one girl and two boys.  I’m also the firstborn of 3, with one brother and one sister.

9. Where do you come from, in detail? Fugeddaboutit. I was born in Queens, but grew up out East on the Guyland, then went to school far away where I lost my accent.

10. What’s your favorite meal? Anything someone else cooks for me. I swear. It could be a PB&J sandwich and I’d be happy.

11. What’s your ideal pet, personality and all? Frankly, I think I’d make a good pet.

@like-an-officer-and-a-sergeant

1.  Have you ever been on a camping trip? Yes. All three chicks have been through Scouting, so I’ve camped far more than I really like. 

2. What is your favourite re-make movie (or TV-show), if a re-make is a possible favourite….?   I’m stumped on this one.  Tell you what, Sarge, at 3am I’m sure I’ll wake up and remember.  I’ll post it then. 

3. What is your extreme only-I-wish holiday destination?  A tropical beach, maybe on a mostly-deserted island, with wifi, indoor plumbing and a chef.

4. Which literary heroine you identify with?  Molly Weasley

5. Imagine you’d have to be a British royal person ( alive or deceased). Which one would you be?  Technically this may not count, but I’m a bit fond of Elinor of Aquitaine.  Except for the getting locked up part. 

6. Do you need a proper breakfast to get going? If by proper breakfast you mean two cups of coffee, then yes.

7. Name your favourite fanfic of your own writings (if you don’t write, your fav fanfic).  His Safety Net and A Mission of Hope both have a special place in my heart. (No, I am not above self-promotion. Of course I’ve included a link)

8. What is the most ridiculous thing you have done in your fandomlife? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.

9. Which three famous people, dead or alive, you’d like to have dinner with? Eleanor Roosevelt, Gloria Steinem, and my mother.

10. Do you write real letters? Sometimes, but not often enough.

11. Have you ever had an operation? Three cesarean sections.

@thatginchygal

1. What is the  “craziest”  thing you’ve done for the love  of something?  Reader, I married him.

2. What is your ultimate bucket-list travel destination? London, for about six months.

3. Cats or dogs?  I love both, but my life is better suited to having cats.

4. If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?  My bed.  I’m at work, and it’s so dreadfully slow that I’ve broken my no-Tumblr rule and have gone incognito.

5. Write me a piece of advice that you’d go back and give to your younger self.  Get that Masters Degree.

6. Share one sentence of something you’ve written and tell me why you like it. From Catching His Breath: “ His arms had never known the feel of her but he was haunted by the phantom space she left behind.”  A very dear friend quoted this line back to me very early in our friendship, and in that moment I felt like a queen.

7. Can you still love/be a fan of something/someone and be critical of a choice or decision? Why or why not?  Nothing can be perfect.  Recognizing a flaw and still loving is profound.

8. Rogue One. Dead or alive?  ;)   (For non-SW fans:  Pen or pencil to write with?  – see this is why I’m letting ta-dala ask the questions!  ;) )  Pencil

9. You can only eat one food the rest of your life. What is it?  Cheese

10. Give me your Desert Island Discs list. Queen "Bohemian Rhapsody,” The Jackson Five “I Want You Back,”  Aretha Franklin, “Respect,” Adele “Someone Like You,” Otis Redding “Try a Little Tenderness,” Kelly Clarkson “Since U Been Gone,” George Michael “Faith,” and Josh Groban “O Holy Night.”

11. What is your favorite curse word? Oh, I never swear. Dammit.

So here are my questions:

1.  Do you know how to play a musical instrument? If so, which, and how long did you/have you played?

2.  Julie Andrews:  “The Sound of Music” or “Victor/Victoria?”

3.  What’s your favorite scent?

4.  When you were 5, what did you want to be when you grew up?

5.  Someone gives you $10,000 you can’t spend on bills, your family or anything practical.  What will you buy?

6.  What books do you have by your bedside for whenyou need them?

7.  If you could cook me any meal, what would it be?

8.  When do you laugh the most?

9.  Where was the best trip you ever took?

10.  Squirrels:  Cute fluffy forest creatures or Rats With Fluffy Tails and Good PR?

11.  What do you want to be the title of your obituary?

I’m going to tag @ilovemushystuff @mg-bsl381 @sincerelygeertje @awakeandwondering @miss-ute @alice1nwond3rland @flyingnonny @iam-narwhal @dullroarofspace @superfluousbananas @thatginchygal @lovetheturners @turnt4turnadette

There’s a bunch of people I’d like to tag but they hate doing these, so I hope they read this and see how self-sacrificing I am being by not tagging them.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 5: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A battle pennant of black cloth with a single golden eye in its center.

A battle pennant of grey cloth with a black short sword partially wrapped in a white death shroud in its center.

A black stone that beats like a heart and seeps red fluid when pricked.

A blank mask that allows the wearer to look exactly like himself when worn.

A bone insignia of military rank originating from the legendary Horde of the Endless Dead

A bone key of a design akin to the nomadic desert tribes

A brass bas-relief, depicting the finder’s father, mother, sibling, or childhood imaginary friend, in a gilded cage.  

A brass bicep bracer with an Efreet motif.

A brass nose flute.

A brass plated orc skull.

---Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

---Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A battle pennant of black cloth with a single golden eye in its center.

A battle pennant of grey cloth with a black short sword partially wrapped in a white death shroud in its center.

A black stone that beats like a heart and seeps red fluid when pricked.

A blank mask that allows the wearer to look exactly like himself when worn.

A bone insignia of military rank originating from the legendary Horde of the Endless Dead

A bone key of a design akin to the nomadic desert tribes

A brass bas-relief, depicting the finder’s father, mother, sibling, or childhood imaginary friend, in a gilded cage.  

A brass bicep bracer with an Efreet motif.

A brass nose flute.

A brass plated orc skull.

A broken spear head made of bone. There is an unknown script engraved upon the surface.

A bronze plated half-elf skull.

A bronze tablet bound in human skin. The tablet is inscribed in an ancient tongue on both sides. If translated, a rambling account is revealed, seeming to expound the means of communicating with (or perhaps binding?) the demon Uln-Rgaoon, Child of Whispers.

A bundle of legal papers wrapped in colorful braided cord that entitle the bearer to a one-half share in Delecarte’s Cirque Des Wonderment.

A ceremonial stag headdress thought to bring fertility and health.

A charm made from animal bones and feathers believed to ward off the undead.

A child’s doll with hair made of rare moss.

A clay dove mounted inside a wooden cage.

A clay pot containing a mixture of rendered animal fat and herbs that is believed to ward off yeti.

A clean linen cloth wrapped around three ordinary looking acorns. Sewn into the corner of the cloth are the words “High Aldwin”.  

A coin made from a carved insect carapace

A cold iron cage lantern, with no oil reservoir or candle spike. The oversized handle ring has a broken chain link attached to it. The lantern is inscribed with runes of holy abjuration.  

A comb made of bone engraved with an ancient proverb about the dangers of vanity.

A completely sealed, six inch oak barrel with sloshing liquid inside.

A copper plated gnome skull.

A counterfeit coin of the local currency, weighted to favour one side (70% chance of coming up heads). The replica is a perfect copy, apart from the weight, which can be detected by knowledgeable PC’s who spend time handling the coin

A cracked, old map case, containing a nautical map with coordinates to a mysterious isle recorded as VarnKaragoss (Which translates to “Place of Ending”). The island is many leagues to the distant north, and is surely encased in snow and ice. The island does not appear on contemporary maps, but is referenced in some rare texts as a burial ground for ancient giant kin.

A crimson envelope bearing a white star sigil. Inside is a fine piece of folded parchment in a rare language. If translated it’s found to be a riddle: Alive as thee but absent breath/Cold in life as we art in death./Always a thirst we ever drink./Clad in mail but never clink (The answer is “Fish”)

A crude mortal and pestle made out of a pair of rough stones

A crystal ball. When looked at, it usually shows an unending battle between 2 trolls. Every once in a great while a place of great importance to the viewer.

A crystal ball. When you look at it, you are shown a battle between 2 trolls typically, yet every once in a great while a place of great importance to you.

A crystal bracelet fashioned in a fog motif, with three animal charms attached: a bird, a wolf and an octopus. There are links for two other charms, but they are missing.  

A decrepit and slightly malodorous preserved rabbit’s foot on a metal chain.

A disturbingly life-like, white, yeti mask.

A dog whistle fashioned of bone.

A drawstring pouch containing three sticks of green incense, stamped with a two headed monkey.

A dried scalp taken from a still living disobedient slave. Those who hold it feel the urge to rebel.

A false glass eye. Perceptive PC’s will notice that the iris snaps open to reveal a small secret compartment.  

A fashionable, domino mask.

A fine ring case festooned with silver filigree, but with no ring inside. A false bottom reveals a coin sized, obsidian disk, depicting a black raven with three eyes.  

A finely crafted beard snood.

A finger length shard of ice that never melts.

A fishing line that never tangles or snags.

A fist sized ball of an unknown material. When dropped, it doesn’t bounce.

A fist sized ball of copper wire.

A fist sized metallic pyramid, deeply etched in incomprehensible runes.

A fist-sized glass sphere filled with a black, gelatin like substance.

A flat stone with white chalk marks that change each time it is observed.

A folded parchment containing the notes to a whimsical tune.

A folded piece of parchment reveals a charcoal sketch of a stunning young woman. A wide lake and a large tree split by lightning are depicted behind her

A fossilized heart of an unknown creature. Those who hold it hear a slow but steady beat within their head.

A fragile black paper fan. When unfolded, the fan depicts two mesmerizing cat’s eyes.

A full deck of playing cards each of which has two backs and no faces.

A glass elf ear.

A glass jar containing a number of preserved tentacles of an unidentifiable creature. There are six, connected around what appears to be a mouth.

A glass jar filled with humanoid baby teeth, marked “For emergency use only!”.

A gold colored pill box depicting a single cat on the lid.

A hand mirror that reflects an unknown eye at all times.

A hand sized ball of parchment tied up with string. If the string is removed, and the many parchment layers unwrapped, at the center is a pinch of bright yellow sulfur.  

A hardened sand painting depicting a gladiator match

A heavy eight inch gate key, fashioned of cold iron, inscribed with hieroglyphs from an earlier age. If translated, the hieroglyphs translate to “Star Door”.

A holy symbol of an elemental priest of water

A horned and fanged skull that looks human.

A jawbone of a donkey. All its teeth are black and anyone holding the jawbone experiences the slight flavor of rotten meat in their mouth.

A jawbone of a predatory creature. All its teeth are serrated and anyone holding the jawbone feels as if they are starving.

A jeweler’s hammer with a head on both ends.

A knapped flint arrow head with unknown script upon it.

A knife with a handle made from the fossilized bone of an extinct predator.

A kraken like statuette, carved from blue and white coral.  

A lace garter in black and red.

A large amber stone, encasing a six inch dragonfly with elongated tentacles instead of mandibles.

A large eagle feather that smells of brimstone.

A lead plated goblin skull

A leather pouch full of rainbow colored sand.

A lightweight wooden case containing a luxurious feather quill. Two small bottles of ink are also set into the case. The first ink is a faint brownish yellow, and smells like bile. The second is congealed blood.  

A locket containing a picture of an ogre and a manticore.

A lovingly crafted bowl made of rosewood.

A magically preserved oak leaf on a cord that can be worn as an eye patch.

A miniature set of blacksmith’s bellows, small enough for a doll

A multi-colored gemstone of curious origin. No stone dealer alive is able to identify it.  

A mummified hand that twitches when the owner becomes aggravated or upset.

A mummified hand which knowledgeable PC’s will recognize as a mul, a cross species of human and dwarf.

A music box that appears to be in working order but makes no noise.

A old boot stuffed with straw. If the boot is emptied, a dark green, scaled egg is found. The egg is about the size of a child’s fist, and is warm to the touch.  

A one foot long, deep red and grey feather. If inspected closely, tiny black writing can see be seen along the vein. The writing is in a lost language. If translated, it reads “The Seeking of the Sky God is ended.”  

A one foot tall humanoid skeleton bound with copper wire

A painted toy boat, in excellent condition. A single child figurine steers the ship. There is space for a second figurine, but it appears to be missing.

A pair of severed hands formerly belonging to a witch. They have been dried out, preserved and bound together with twine.

A pair of steel spurs

A pair of tin coins from an unknown land.

A pair of tongs crafted from the jawbones of a long extinct animal.

A palm sized, dried mushroom that glows in the dark.

A parchment flip book showing a knight galloping on a horse.

A perfectly smooth stone which, when squeezed, turns blue for five minutes.

A petrified cockatrice egg

A piece of animal hide covered in strange white rune, when stored occasionally quiet laughter is heard from the hide.

A piece of cobblestone rumoured to have once made up the road that lead to a famed lost city from the dawn of civilization.

A piece of parchment covered with untranslatable demonic script.

A piece of supple leather with the image of a forest on it

A piece of white cloth. When it is laid over the face of a dead person it holds their likeness for twenty four hours before returning to its blank state.

[moved202347]

Hekate / Hecate

(from my old amino before I got banned 😂, pretty much copy n pasted for reference)

Dogs/puppies [from https://hekatecovenant.com/resources/symbols-of-hekate/dogs/] -The dog was connected to spirits, the home (as a guard), a friend of the family, also symbolising an easy birth and fertility.  Represents the earth element. Also known as the 'black bitch'. Originated in ancient hymns, writings, ancient Greek pottery, stone carvings and statues. Its first symbolism came from the Trojan Queen Hekabe who leapt into the sea after the fall of Troy. Hecate took pity on her and turned her into a black dog which became her familiar. In some Greek towns, black female dogs were sacrificed in Hecate's honour, usually at night. Cerberus, the three-headed hound who guards the entrance of the Underworld is additionally connected to Hecate. In American + European folklore, dogs have always been seen as supernatural in the nature of what humans can't see. Black dogs are thought to roam the locations Hecate holds sacred; desolate roads, moors, cemeteries and the crossroads. Dogs attend her as she roams these desolate spaces. 

Dragons [credit to https://hekatecovenant.com/resources/symbols-of-hekate/dragon/]- There are loads of epithets of Hecate. One of her epithets comes from the name 'propylaya' meaning 'she who stands before the gate'. Her hound is believed to be the three-headed dog Cerberus who guards the gateway into the Underworld and some myths believed that dogs replaced dragons. There is imagery associated with Medea with riding her flying chariot escaping from Korinthos after the murder of the king Kreon. Her dragons were a pair of winged, serpentine dragons. 

Black lamb - A preferred sacrificial offering to Hecate. In modern times, it would be more suitable to have a representative of a black lamb such as a statue or photograph , or somehow getting a living black female sheep into your house without wrecking havoc in front of your altar (I don't recommend having a living animal on your altar!). 

Fire breathing Horse or Bull - Represents the fire element. It was symbolic of Hades fiery soul. Hecate is often seen in images crowned with bull-like crescent horns. Black bulls became heavily associated with Hecate as sacrificial animals in necromancy rituals. It is a constant reminder of her powers as creator and destroyer symbolised by the phases (waxing and waning) of the moon and seen in the crescent horns of a bull.

·🖤·

Hydra headed snake or serpent [https://archetypicalwitchcraft.wordpress.com/2014/01/24/understanding-hekate-part-5-the-meaning-of-her-ancient-symbols/]- A solar and underworld symbol. Represents the water element. It was an ambivalent symbol just like the dog, it was connected to the sun, healing and regeneration. Yet there was also a link to the spiritual side, the underworld too. There was old folklore which believed spirits would appear as a snake to bless the house. Snakes, like domestic animals was said to be able to see and feel the presence of spirits, so they were used in necromancy and magic to figure out if there was spirits around. 

·🖤·

Other associations are: frogs or toads; black bulls (draped in wreaths of yew and was then slaughtered in her honour);belladonna (poisonous herb!), cypress; dittany; mandrake; honey (anything sweet), dark chocolate (modern interpretation!); red wine (of course only if your in the age to use it, though your not going to be drinking it!);  torches;  infernal spirits; dagger; ebony; knives or daggers (obviously be safe and don't do any silly things with it!); twin torches; magickal brewing (so potions); silver; grey; bats; rope; black; mental health; hearth and home; dreams; divination; cauldrons; fate. MORE HERBS:  hazel, black poplar, cedar, willow, garlic, thyme, almonds, myrrh, mugwort, mint, dandelion, cardamom, hellbore, belladonna, hemlock, mandrake, hecateis (aconite, wolfsbane [poisonous]) opium poppy, verbena, sage, purple honeysuckle, camomile. Any hallucination herbs (be careful obviously and know your stuff and even then check it with someone who also knows their stuff). Owls, bears, ravens, cats (possibly) and donkeys. 

She is associated with yew, garlic, all poisonous herbs (use representations, so little tiny mushroom statues), oak, white, red, purple, ferrets (polecats), healing, healing herbs (more of the stronger ones and notorious ones), keys (Knowledge, unlocking wisdom, seeing the truth), mandrake, lamps, saffron, sandals in bronze or gold, whips, iron, the wolf, mullet (the blood-coloured goatfish), the new moon, twilight (best time to do rituals with her).

·🖤·

Also MORE epithets ("An epithet is an honorary and praiseful descriptive title used as part of a name."), all taken and sourced from http://www.patheos.com/blogs/matauryn/2017/07/19/many-epithets-hekate/. 

Adamantaea ‘Unconquerable’, ‘Untamable Goddess’

Admêtos ‘Indomable’, ‘Unconquered’

Aenaos ‘Eternal’

Agallomenen Elaphoisi ‘Rejoicing in Deer’

Agia ‘Sacred’, ‘Holy’

Aglaos ‘Radiant’

Agriope ‘Wild-eyed’, ‘Fierce-faced’, ‘Savage-watcher’, ‘wild-voiced’

Agrotera ‘Huntress’

Aidônaia ‘Goddess of Hades’, ‘Of the Underworld”

Aimopotis ‘Blood-drinker’, ‘Murderer’

Aiônos ‘Eternal’

Aizêiοs ‘Vigorous’

Aktinochiatis ‘Radiant haired’, ‘With Rays for Hair’

Aktiophis [Of Unknown Meaning]

Alexeatis ‘Averter of Evil’

Alkimos ‘Powerful’, ‘Strong’, ‘Stout’, ‘Brave’

Amaimaketos ‘Unconquerable’, ‘Raging’, ‘Invincible’, ‘Unapproachable’, ‘Uncontrollable’

Ambrotos ‘Immortal’

Ameibousa ‘One That Transforms’

Amphiphaes ‘Circumlucent’

Amphiprosopos ‘Double-faced’

Amphistomos ‘Double-mouthed’

Anassa ‘Queen’

Anassa Eneroi ‘Queen of the Dead’

Androphonos ‘Killer of Men’

Angelos ‘Messenger’

Antaian Theou ‘She Who Meets’

Antania ‘Enemy of Mankind’

Aôroboros ‘Devourer of the Prematurely Dead’, ‘Devourer of the Untimely Dead’

Apanchomene ‘The Hanged One’

Apotropaios ‘Averting’, ‘Averter’

Aphrattos ‘Unnamed One’

Arêgos ‘Helper’

Archikos ‘Royal’

Ariste ‘The Best’

Ariste Cthonia ‘Best of the World’, ‘Best in the World’

Arkuia / Arkyia ‘Spinner of webs’, ‘Entrapper’

Arrhetos ‘Ineffable’

Astrodia ‘Star-walker’, ‘Star-Courser’

Atala ‘Tender’, ‘Delicate’

Atasthalos ‘Pretentious’, ‘Reckless’, ‘Presumptious’

Athanatos ‘Immortal’, ‘Of Immortal Fame’

Autophyês / Autopheus ‘Self-generating’. ‘Self-begotten’

Azonos ‘Without Borders’

Azostos ‘Ungirt’, ‘Without a Belt’

Baridouchos ‘Barque-holder’, ‘Skiff-holder’

Basileia ‘Queen’, ‘Princess’

Bolos ‘Far-Thrower’,

Boôpis ‘Cow-eyed’

Booporos ‘Ox-Herder’

Borborophorba ‘Eater of Filth’

Boukolos ‘Ox-Herder’

Brimô ‘Angry-One’, ‘Terrifying’

Buthios ‘Abysmal’, ‘Of the Depths’

Charopos ‘Ferocious-aspected’, ‘Fierce’, ‘Grim’, ‘Flashing’, ‘Bright, ‘Having blue-grey eyes’, ‘of the Sea’

Chthonia ��Chthonic’, ‘Of the Earth”

Chrysôpis ‘Golden-faced’

Chrysosandalos ‘of Golden Sandals’

Chrysosandalaimopotichthonia ‘Goddess of the Lower World Wearing Golden Sandals and Drinking Blood’

Chrysostephanos ‘Golden-Crowned’, ‘Crowned with Splendor’

Chrysostephês ‘Golden-crowned’

Dadophoros ‘Torchbearer’

Dadouchos ‘Torch-bearer’

Daeira ‘The Knowing One’

Daidalos ‘Cunning’

Damasandra ‘Dominator of Men’, ‘Subduer of Men’

Damnamene ‘Means of Constraint’

Damnodamia ‘Subduer of Subduers’

Damnomeneia ‘Dominating Force’

Dasplêtis ‘Horror’, ‘Frightful-one’

Deichteira ‘Teacher’, ‘Revealer’

Deinos ‘Terrible’

Despoina ‘Lady’, ‘Mistress’

Dione ‘Goddess’

Doloessa / Doloeis ‘Astute-one’, ‘Subtle’, ‘Wily’, ‘Cunning’

Drakaina ‘Serpent’, ‘Dragon’

Eidôlios ‘Phantasmal’, ‘Ghostly’

Eileithyia ‘Nurse of Childbirth’, ‘Goddess of Midwives’

Einalian ‘Of the Sea’

Einodia Thygater Demetros ‘Daughter of Demeter, who is of the Road’

Ekklesia ‘Of the Assembly’

Ekdotis ‘Bestower’

Elaphêbolos ‘Deer-huntress’, ‘Shooter of Deer’

Elateira ‘Driver’, ‘Charioteer’

Ellophonos ‘Fawn-slayer’

Epaine ‘Awe-Inspiring’, ‘Glorious’, ‘Sublime’

Empousa / Empusa [Of unknown meaning, related to the monster Empusa and the idea of phantoms and specters]

Empylios ‘At the Gate’

Empyrios ‘Empyrean’

Enodia ‘Of the crossroads’, ‘Of the Roads’, ‘Of the Path’

Ephodia ‘Traveling Expenses’, ‘Provisions for the Road’, ‘Traveling Supplies’, ‘Resources’

Ephoros ‘Guardian’ ‘Overseer’

Epigeioi ‘of the Earth’

Epiphanestate Thea ‘the Most Manifest Goddess’

Epipurgidia ‘on the Tower’

Episkopos ‘Guardian’, ‘One who Watches Over’, ‘Overseer’

Epiteichea ‘The Stronghold’, ‘Fort’

Epi-tymbidia ‘Sepulchral’

Eranne ‘Lovely’

Erannos ‘Lovely’

Ergatis ‘Energizer’

Êrigeneia ‘Daughter of morning’, ‘Early-born’

Erôtotokeia / Erototokos ‘Bearer of love’, ‘Producing Love’, ‘Who Bore Love’

Eukoline ‘Good Tempered’

Eupatepeia ‘Noble-born’

Eurippa ‘Horse-finder’

Geneteira ‘Mother’

Genetyllis ‘Birth-Helper’, ‘Goddess of Childbirth’, ‘Midwife’

Gigaessa ‘Giant’

Gorgo ‘The Grim’, ‘The Gorgon’

Hecatoncheires ‘Hundred-handed’

Hegemonen ‘Guide’

Hêgemoye ‘Queen’

Helike ‘Revolving’

Hersechthonia ‘Speaking From Below’

Hexacheira ‘Of Six Ways’, ‘Of Six Hands’

Hiera ‘Holy One’

Hieros Pyr ‘Holy Fire’

Hipparete ‘Horse-Speaker’

Hippokyon ‘Mare Bitch’, ‘Horse Dog’

Hippoprosopos ‘Horse-Faced’

Hypolampteira [Of Unknown Meaning – possibly related to light or brightness]

Iocheaira / Iokheaira ‘Arrow-shooter’, ‘One who Shoots Arrows’

Indalimos ‘Beautiful’

Ippokyôn ‘Mare-Dog’, half dog/ half horse

Ippoprosôpos ‘Horse-faced’

Kalkaea ‘Wearer of High Boots’

Kalligeneia ‘Bearing Beautiful Offspring’

Kalliste ‘Fairest’

Kapetoktypos ‘Tomb-disturber’, ‘Causing the Noise of Lamentation’

Kardiodaitos ‘Heart-Eater’, ‘Feasting on Men’s Hearts’

Kareia ‘of Karia’, ‘Kraus’

Karko ‘Lamia’, ‘Child-Eating’, ‘Nocturnal Spirit’

Katachthonia ‘Subterranean’

Katakampsypsaychenos ‘Bender of proud necks’

Kelkaia [Of Unknown Meaning]

Keratôpis ‘Horned-faced’, ‘Horned Looking’

Keroeis ‘Horned’

Kthonia ‘Of the Underworld’, ’Of the Earth’

Kleidouchos / Kleidoukhos ‘Key-holder’, ‘Key-keeper’

Klôthaiê ‘Spinner of fate’

Kore ‘Maiden’

Kourotrophos ‘Child’s Nurse’, ‘Nurse of Youths’

Krataios / Kratais ‘Powerful’, ‘Dominator’, ‘Of the Rocks’

Krokopeplos ‘Saffron-Cloaked’

Kunolygmatos ‘Doglike Howler’, ‘Who howls doglike’

Kydimos ‘Glorious’

Kynegetis ‘Leader of Dogs’

Kynokephalos ‘Dog-Headed’

Kynolygmate ‘Howling Like a Dog’, ‘Who Howls Dog-like’

Kyôn ‘Bitch’, ‘Dog’

Kyôn Melaina ‘Black Bitch’, ‘Black Dog’

Kyria ‘The Powerful’, ‘The Supreme’

Laginitis ‘Of Lagina’

Lampadephoros ‘Lamp-bearer’, ‘Torch-bearer’, ‘Who Warns of Nighttime Attack’

Lampadios ‘Lamp-bearer’, ‘Torch-bearer’

Leaina ‘The Lioness’

Leontoukhos ‘Holding a Lion’

Leukophryne ‘White-Browed’, ‘Of the White-Browed Hill’

Limenitis ‘Harbor Goddess’

Limenitikos ‘Of the Harbor’, ‘Harbor Goddess’

Limenoskopos ‘Of the Threshold’, ‘Watcher of Havens’, ‘On the Harbor’, ‘Watching the Harbor’

Liparokredemnos ‘Of the Bright Headband’, ‘Bright-Coiffed’

Liparoplokamos ‘Brilliant-Braided’

Lochias ‘Protector of birth’, ‘Goddess of Childbearing’

Lykaina ‘She-wolf’

Lyko ‘She-wolf’, ‘Wolf-formed’

Maera ‘Shining’

Mageus ‘One who Kneads’ [Possibly related to Magi]

Makairapos ‘Blessed-one’

Medeousa / Medusa ‘Protector’, ‘Guard’, ‘Gorgon’

Meisopomenos ‘Laborer of the Moon’

Meisoponeros ‘Vice-Hating’

Megiste ‘Greatest’

Melaine ‘Black’

Melaneimôn ‘Black-clad’, ‘Wearing Black’

Melinoe ‘Soothing One’

Mene ‘Moon’

Moira ‘A Share’, ‘Fate’

Monogenes ‘Only Child’

Monoprosopos ‘With One Face’

Mormo ‘She-Monster’

Munychia [Of Unknown Meaning]

Nekuia / Nekyia ‘Goddess of death’, ‘Mistress of corpses’

Nerteria ‘Infernal’, ‘Subterranean’, ‘Nether One’

Nerterios ‘Infernal’, ‘Subterranean’, Nether One’

Nerteron Prytanin ‘Mistress of the Dead’

Noctiluca ‘Light of the Night’, ‘Night Shiner’

Noeros ‘Intellective’

Nomaios ‘Pastoral’

Nychia / Nykhia ‘Nocturnal’ ‘Nocturnal-One’ “Goddess of Night’

Nyktairodyteira ‘Night Riser and Setter’, ‘She that Rises and Sets by Night’

Nykteria ‘Of the Night’

Nykti ‘Of the Night’

Nyktiboos ‘Night-Shouter’, ‘Night-Crier’

Nyktipolos ‘Night-Wandering’

Nyktophaneia ‘Night-shining’

Nymphen ‘Bride’

Nyssa ‘Goader’, “Goal’, ‘Beginning’, ‘Turning Post’, ‘Ambition’

Oistrophaneia ‘Manifester of Madness’

Oistroplaneia ‘Spreader of Madness’, ‘Causing the Wanderings of Madness’

Oksyboê ‘Shrill-screamer’, ‘Shrieker’

Oletis ‘Destroyer’

Opaon ‘Follower’

Opheôplokamos ‘Coiled with Snakes’, ‘With Snaky Curls’

Oriplanos ‘Mountain-roamer’, ‘Mountain-Wandering’

Oroboros ‘Tail-Eating’

Ourania ‘Celestial’, ‘Heavenly’

Ouresiphoites ‘Wanderer in the Mountains’

Oxythymia ‘Gallows’, ‘Quick to Anger’

Paggennêteira ‘Mother of All’

Paiônios ‘Healer’

Pammêtôr ‘Mother of All’

Pandamateira ‘All-tamer’, ‘All-powerful’, “All Subduer’, ‘Master of all’

Pandina [Of Unknown Meaning – Possibly related to ‘whirling’ or ‘rotating’]

Pandôteira ‘All-giver’, ‘One who gives everything’, ‘Bestower of Everything’, Bounteous’

Pangaios ‘World-wide’

Panopaia ‘All-seeing’, ‘One who sees everything’, ‘Panorama’

Panta Ephepousa [Of Unknown Meaning]

Pantos Kosmou Kleidokhos ‘Keeper of the Keys of the Cosmos’

Pantrephô / Pantrophos ‘All-nurturing’, ‘All-sustaining’, ‘who feeds all’

Parthenos ‘Virgin’

Pasikrateia ‘Universal Queen’, ‘All-powerful’, ‘who dominates all’

Pasimedeonsa ‘All-guarding’, ‘All-protecting’

Pasimedousa ‘Ruling Over All’

[sbnkalny]

blargensnorf: You hate bad people because that's what i do, yeah

blargensnorf: I keep stadning up and getting rlly light headed what do, kalny

garbage-empress: Youre so cute can i keep stadning up and getting rlly light headed what do, is it time? if she only knew - will the prophecy come true?! sonic underground, sonic underground, sonic underground, they made a god out of blood, not superiority

garbage-empress: Kalny you're so cute can i keep stadning up and getting rlly light headed what do, kalny feed me a toffee please sign my boobie hangin out your own name? also, what do you think we'll get a Grass/Fire type, and what do you think it strange that you are a bot blog or not i'm the dead dead daddio!

garbage-empress: Youre so cute can i keep stadning up and getting rlly light headed what do, is it time? if she only knew - will the prophecy come true?! sonic underground, sonic underground, they made a god out of blood, not superiority

blargensnorf: You're so cute can i keep stadning up and getting rlly light headed what do, is it time? if she only knew - will the prophecy come true?! sonic underground, they made a vow their mother will be the talk of Every scholar on the moon or wherever we live in the world? where are you located at?

garbage-empress: I keep stadning up and getting rlly light headed what do, is it time? if she only knew - will the prophecy come true?! sonic underground, sonic underground, sonic underground, they made a vow their mother will be found! the children grow, learn what's right - leaders of the freedom fight, they seek their mother, the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little distracted heres a picture of a cat, perhaps with a simple plan t-shirt (they would play at the show Was cancelled before she could be found myself here at 11:56 at night

garbage-empress: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night of the concert i put my big stupid pill case for morons who take idiot pills? i need something to like kalny. i'm very disappointed in you telling me that will keep me from killing people with them, robot friend buddy chum pal i don't think stupid spam actually achieves any political ends in a useful way that it goes, and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an l on her forehead.

blargensnorf: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night terrors are often described as "SPONGEBOB on Ritalin". For if i doooo, my mother will be left floating in space with a diplomat rich lady and she Was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the common ruin of the contending classes.

blargensnorf: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night Terrors' owen Cox: toasty young slice of ass, the paragon of sass, with the electric messiah. Is that trump might nuke us all so we hurt someone Every day, but now i'm only falling apart. and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an object is the source: the father, the father of nothing.) christian zombie vampire (i am the father, the sun, the ghostly whole.

garbage-empress: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night of the concert i put on a black leather miniskirt, Pink fishnets and black combat boots with high heels. What year is that trump might nuke us all so we just threw him in the yard. On the hot concrete floor while she cover her mouth and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an object is the source: the father, the father of nothing.) christian zombie vampire (i am the father, the father of nothing.) christian zombie vampire (i am the eggman

blargensnorf: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night asking to borrow kahlua?. The wiggles are my only solace is that trump might nuke us all so we just got high, in front of a collection of swords and knives will fall out, and then went through some kind of transformation like a butterfly that dreamed it Was a human i would eat hummus. On the hot concrete floor while she cover her mouth and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an l on her forehead.

blargensnorf: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night asking to borrow kahlua?. I feel like my only solace is that trump might nuke us all so we hurt someone Every day, but now i'm only falling apart. and there's nothing i can say, a full commitment's what i'm thinking about making a weird memer i can't touch the ground that covers the message that is created and perpetuated by parents/guardians, teachers, peers, and the media is being loud and has been in a long silk windsock. Every time kalny quotes the german naruto opening in the tags of her hometown with her finger and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an object is the source: the father, the sun, the ghostly whole.

blargensnorf: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night sb. I feel like my only solace is that trump might nuke us all so we hurt someone Every day, but now i'm great! i love you sbnkalny.. The message that is created and perpetuated by parents/guardians, teachers, peers, and the media is being unfair on sarah palin, i am blind because i have never looked for ourselves, – so how are you? skylar turned 1 year old today! this here trenchcoat. To be human despite being assigned clown at birth, but realized Was human later on' kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an l on her body does that name haunt me? it's the only chance to connect with a dream say a direct copy of your work.

blargensnorf: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night performance by Limp Bizkit, which included fans tearing plywood from the walls during a performance of the song "break stuff.". You are my only solace is that what ur saying that skylar is your girlfriend?. What emotions are a scam perpetuated by parents/guardians, teachers, peers, and the holy ghost plushie is HAUNtiead so anyways im scared of experiencing death?. On the hot concrete floor while she cover her mouth and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an l on her forehead.

garbage-empress: I've found myself here at 11:56 at night performance by Limp Bizkit, which included fans tearing plywood from the walls of my outrageously illegal coupons to marginally slow down the cute bird mug i got as a gift i loved that mug its broken now im gonna monch.... im gonna cry theres water all over the neigborhood are going mad! 1977 and we're gonna show them all apathy's a drag~ my mind is like the dark side of buses?. No! kalny, skylar is your girlfriend?. Your face is a social construct that is created and perpetuated by parents/guardians, teachers, peers, and the media is being unfair on sarah palin, i am blind because i couldn't find any tutorials on how to dance a box on my head but i'm pretty sure there are other football guys aside from that guy, y'know? i... and her thumb ಠ⌣ಠ in the shape of an L™ on her forehead gently* horse..

[juggieheadcoopers-blog]

Hey, could you write a fic where Jughead and Archie are working at the construction and Betty and Veronica are going to see them. And just as they arrive, Juggie takes his plaid off (he doesn't notice them), and Betty freezes on the spot and drools over the hot body he was hiding? And Veronica is just as impressed. // Oddly specific, but it'd funny and awesome to see/read, hahahaha

I had way too much fun writing this lol. Enjoy!

–

“Jug, could you hand me that hammer over there?”

Archie gestured to the beat-up claw hammer sitting on the workbench, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Sure thing, Arch,” Jughead muttered, grabbing the hammer by the grip and holding it out for Archie to take.

Jughead adjusted his hardhat, squinting through the glare of the sun to scan the perimeter of the construction site.

“Did Veronica say what time she and Betty were getting here?” Jughead wondered, squatting to the graveled road to pick up a wood beam and haul it to the other side of the work area.

“No, but my guess is that it’ll be awhile,” Archie guessed, placing a nail onto a piece of wood and forcefully hammering it down. “Kevin likes to talk when he’s nervous and he has that big history test tomorrow so I bet he’s going to have a lot to say.”

“When doesn’t he have a lot to say?” Jughead pointed out, tossing the wood into the pile and turning back to Archie with an amused grin.

“Good point,” Archie laughed, stepping backwards to take a look at his handy work and setting the hammer back on the workbench.

“God, how is it November and still close to ninety degrees out here,” Jughead complained, undoing the first few buttons on his plaid shirt and rolling up the sleeves. “What I wouldn’t give for an Arctic snowstorm or some sort of ice apocalypse right now.”

“Better get used to it,” Archie told him. “Working in construction like this? It’s pretty much hot all year around.”

Meanwhile…

“How long did they say they were going to be?” Veronica whined from the front entrance of the construction site, lifting her foot to show Betty the fancy heels that her mother had bought her for her last birthday. “These shoes were not made for walking on gravel and don’t even get me started on what this heat is going to do to the suede lining on this jacket.”

“Patience, V,” Betty told her, glancing down at her watch to check how long they had been standing there. “Jughead and Archie said to meet them here after we were done studying with Kev. They didn’t give me a specific time.”

Betty stood on her tiptoes to see around the giant tree blocking their view of the project that Mr. Andrews and his crew were working on.

“Maybe they meant for us to meet them down at the trailer,” Betty muttered, tugging on Veronica’s sleeve as she trudged through the gravel to lead them farther into the construction area. “Come on, let’s take a walk down there.”

As they rounded the corner, Betty could hear men hammering and lugging large planks of wood around the dirt-covered work area and she knew that they were headed in the right direction.

“Well trust me when I tell you that they do not want to feel the weight of my wrath if this jacket is ruined because-”

“Veronica, shut up,” Betty muttered, stopping dead in her tracks as something -or rather, someone - caught her attention at the edge of the construction site.

Veronica glanced up to follow Betty’s gaze, her eyes going wide at the sight of Jughead unbuttoning his plaid button-down to reveal a surprisingly fit, surprisingly attractive, bare chest.

“Holy hipster-meets-abercrombie,” Veronica mumbled, her mouth dropping open as Jughead tossed his shirt onto a pile of wood beams. “How could you not tell me that broody had a body.”

“I’ve never actually… you know,” Betty stammered, her pulse quickening as Jughead squirted his water bottle over his head, the water droplets trickling down his body in slow motion.

“Seen the abs under all that plaid,” Veronica finished for her, one eyebrow twitching up curiously as they both gaped at the boy standing in front of them. “Well girl, let me be the first to tell you - you were missing out.”

“Tell me about it,” Betty breathed, her cheeks flushing pink as the temperature in the air continued to elevate the longer she watched him haul the wooden planks from the truck to the pile closest to the fence.

“Well if you don’t do something about it after seeing our own personal screening of Magic Mike: Misunderstood High School Boys Edition, I most certainly will,” Veronica warned, rummaging through her purse to pull out the copy of the Grapes of Wrath she borrowed from their English teacher and fanning herself with it dramatically.

“Veronica!” Betty protested, nudging her in the side with her elbow.

“Sorry, B, but your boyfriend has a bod,” Veronica stated. “And it’s working for him.”

“Okay can you stop staring at him like that please, you’re starting to look like a cat in heat,” Betty noticed, her eyes drawing away from Jughead to watch in horror as her best friend bit her bottom lip seductively at the sight of Betty’s shirtless boyfriend. 

“You’re right, sorry,” Veronica muttered, shaking her head as if to draw herself out of a deep trance. “I just - I’ve always had this fantasy of a shirtless construction worker running towards me in slow motion - chiseled chest, dirt-smudged cheeks, a firm a-”

“V!” Betty shrieked, taking her by the arm and pulling her away from her view of Jughead.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop!” Veronica smirked, her eyes dancing wildly as she watched Betty’s gaze slowly drift back to a bare-chested Jughead. “But seriously, you’re going to do something about this right?”

“Like what?”

“B,” Veronica narrowed her eyes at Betty, wiggling her eyebrows at her suggestively as she glanced from Betty, to Jughead, and back again. “Do I really have to spell it out for you.”

“Oh,” Betty mumbled under her breath, her eyes going so wide Veronica thought they might pop right out of her head as realization finally set in. “Oh!”

“Finally!” Archie called from the other side of the construction site, setting his equipment to the side and looking up to see his friends standing near the trailer. “What took you guys so long?”

“Oh you know,” Veronica called back, glancing at Betty slyly as her lips curled into an amused grin. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Yeah, the location’s great,” Archie agreed, turning on his heel to gesture towards to area of land behind them. “You can even see the river from over here.”

“Yeah, the river,” Veronica muttered as she and Betty took a few steps closer to meet Archie and Jughead halfway. “That’s totally what we were looking at.”

Jughead leaned forward to grab his shirt, but made no move to slip it back on over his bare shoulders.

“You okay, Bets?” Jughead asked, taking in her bewildered expression and flushed cheeks as he closed the space between them.

“Fine! Just a little…” Betty squeaked, her heart racing wildly as she struggled to pry her eyes away from his chest to meet his gaze. Being this close to him, Betty’s mind drifted to thoughts of her hands exploring his chest, her fingers running through his hair, her lips on his lips, his neck, his stomach. 

“Hot.”